


The Salvage of the Society

by Carol_Molliniere



Series: Soul Eater + The Glass Scientists AU [3]
Category: Soul Eater, The Glass Scientists (Webcomic)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Fantastic Racism, Fighting, Gen, Minor Character Death, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Self-Esteem Issues, Trust Issues
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-26
Updated: 2019-07-13
Packaged: 2019-11-05 21:42:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 22,616
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17926880
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Carol_Molliniere/pseuds/Carol_Molliniere
Summary: The Society for Witches and Sorcerers has been brought to its knees, and no one knows how to resurface. But even when it seems that it is their darkest hour, hope still emerges. Now Jekyll and his friends will have to pick up the pieces in order to take back what the Society had lost.





	1. Nothing We Can Do About It

**Author's Note:**

> Wow, a third fic?
> 
> Yeah, I know. The main story of the Soul Eater + The Glass Scientists AU is going to be split into three fics, one for each act (as a lot of you may know about the Three Act Structure). Luckily this is the last, so hold on to your seats!
> 
> After this, I may consider a collection of the one shots I've written for this AU and shared only with the Discord peeps, so who knows?
> 
> ...and yes, the idea of an infirmary within the Society was an idea from the Danganronpa + TGS AU. (If you haven't read it yet, please check it out, starting with The Murder Game!)
> 
> Anyway, enjoy this latest fic!

“ _You seem like a good partner.”_

“ _You think so, huh? I wish I could be better.”_

“ _Once you begin studying in this Academy, you are going to get better. And I'd like to see what you grow into.”_

_Lanyon extended a hand to the person in front of him._

“ _My name is Robert Lanyon. I would be pleased to become your meister.”_

_The person in front of him took his hand._

“ _Henry Jekyll. I...same. Except I'm not your meister, I'm your weapon–”_

_A laugh came from Lanyon's lips. He didn't think he had laughed like that in quite a while._

“ _I'm glad.”_

_Jekyll smiled. It was shy, but it was a smile._

_All of a sudden, however, the small classroom they had been in darkened, and Lanyon's eyes widened. He let go of Jekyll's hand, and looked around at the room._

“ _What the...”_

_He barely felt anything – but he did see the blade suddenly stab through his back out of his chest. He gasped when it did – there was no blood, no pain, but he felt sick anyway. Slowly, he reached up to touch the blade with trembling hands. It was a familiar blade._

_Lanyon looked over his shoulders to see that it was Jekyll who had turned his arm into a blade – it was he who had run him through. They were no longer students of the DWMA, but adults._

“ _H-Henry...?” Lanyon mustered._

“ _It's your fault,” Jekyll said, in a voice that wasn't his. He then looked up at Lanyon with green eyes. “I split my soul because of you.”_

_A pain became known to him._

 

* * *

 

With a jolt, Lanyon opened his eyes, and found himself staring up at a white ceiling.

His eyes were wide for a moment, before he turned his head to look at the room around him. Apparently he was lying down – and judging by the softness below him, he was lying on a bed. He turned his head to his right, and saw Griffin, Maijabi, and Cantilupe lying on other beds, asleep. He breathed a little, and then turned to his left.

When he did so, he wasn't expecting to see someone looking over him with their green eyes. He jumped a little, and the person staring at him jumped as well.

“Oh!” Rachel said, before turning to look over her shoulder. “Everyone, he's awake!”

Only then did Lanyon notice that there were more people in the room, consisting of the healer Bird, the alchemist Virginia, and Hyde. Hyde was moving his arm a bit, as if testing it out; it seemed to not be broken anymore.

His eyes met Hyde's and they stared at each other for all of two seconds before Hyde looked away. He did the same, and looked up at Rachel.

“Where am I?” was the first thing that came out of his mouth.

“In the infimary,” Rachel responded. “Don't worry, you weren't out for too long.”

Lanyon squinted a little. “Is...is it over?”

“If you mean the fight, then yeah,” she answered.

He nodded. The pain that he had felt in his dream now seemed to settle as a strange but not painful feeling on his back. He looked back up at the ceiling, and sighed. “Is everyone alright?”

“Everyone is fine,” Virginia asked for Rachel. “It took a while to get the poison out of some systems, but everyone has healed.”

“Hm.” For some reason, Lanyon didn't feel like talking.

“Well, since we're all healed, why're we all just sitting here?” Hyde asked, getting off the chair he had been sitting on. He crossed his arms. “Do you think it's fun to watch people sleep?”

“Bird and I have to stay here to monitor everyone and give medicine when needed, as well as replace the blood Griffin lost from bleeding internally,” Virginia pointed out. “You and Rachel are the ones that chose to stay after every other injured person left.”

“I...was just worried about how everyone was doing,” Rachel told her. “Was it the same for Edward?”

At the sound of that, Lanyon saw Hyde's eyes widen, a moment before he shook his head. “Why would I be worried about anyone here?” He then glanced at Lanyon for a moment. “Especially that old ratbag lying there.”

“He took a blade for you, Hyde, you must feel something about that,” Bird said.

“More like he took the blade for _Jekyll,_ ” Hyde said, looking away, his chin raised. “I don't need to be around him, and I don't need to be around the people who wanted me dead. I was just observing.”

“That doesn't sound like a good enough excuse to me,” Virginia told him.

Lanyon looked at Hyde again, but it seemed as if he was avoiding his gaze in particular. The strange sensation in his back had returned.

“ _Of course, you wouldn't understand. Why would you? When protecting you from the fight, from my darker side, became too tiring and was the reason why Edward Hyde was created?”_

“ _You made yourself the last person Jekyll would want to tell!”_

Was that true? Was all of that true?

“Hyde,” he said, and Hyde finally looked at him, as if not expecting him to speak. But he didn't say anything, and so Lanyon went on, “...Are you alright?”

“Of course I'm alright,” Hyde said, shrugging. His answer was less instant than Lanyon had expected. “Why do you think I wouldn't be?”

Lanyon nodded. “That's good,” he said.

Hyde's mouth fell open. “Is...is this some kind of weird tactic you have prepared to get me to want to talk to you?” He then frowned. “Because I still don't want to talk to you.”

Lanyon pursed his lips. “I'm just happy to hear you're fine.”

“No, you're happy to hear that Jekyll is fine,” he told him. “I bet that were it not for the fact that I was the other half of Jekyll's soul, you'd just think of me as worthless.” He then turned towards the door. “Well, that's all I needed to see. I have my own business to mind.”

As Hyde left, Lanyon fixed his sight upon Hyde, and used his Soul Perception. It took a little bit of effort, but he tried to read every bit of his soul wavelength, grasp it just as Hyde was out the door.

...Ah. He didn't know why he hadn't seen if before – maybe because he hadn't known to look for it before. But there was a hidden fracture in Hyde's soul, and it was evident that there was something about his wavelength that was similar to Jekyll's. It was strange.

“Don't mind him, Dr. Lanyon,” Virginia said, and Lanyon looked at her. “He's just being moody.”

He got the feeling that it wasn't entirely like that, but he let it be. Slowly, he tried to sit up, and Rachel turned to him.

“Dr. Lanyon, please don't try to exert yourself,” she said.

“I'm just sitting up,” Lanyon said. Then he looked at her. “But...you knew about Jekyll and Hyde before this.”

Rachel swallowed, looking a bit nervous. “Yeah.”

“Do you know the reason why Jekyll split his soul?” he asked.

She put a finger to her chin, as if trying to think. “Well, Hyde did tell me that it was because of the problems of his life...or something?”

“...Oh.”

Seeing the way he bowed his head, she put her hands up and began to wave them. “N-not that I think you one of those problems!” she said quickly.

“It's fine, Miss Pidgley. It's not what you think that bothers me.” Lanyon sighed once more.

“But...it's what Dr. Jekyll thinks that does,” Rachel said slowly.

A silence fell over them for a bit, before Virginia walked forward and presented a bottle of thick blue liquid to him. “Here,” she said. “This will renew your strength.”

Lanyon watched as she popped the cork off of the bottle, and then poured a small amount into an oddly shaped spoon. She then extended it towards him, and he took the spoon. He was a little hesitant about trying a magic user's medicine – he had never done it before, being more well-versed in human medicine. But he thought of how they were trying to help him, and of Jekyll's trust in them. So he drank the syrup – and then made a face.

“I-It's extremely sour,” he said, handing the spoon back to Virginia.

“As it should be,” Virginia replied, taking the spoon back. Then she put the cork back on the bottle, and Lanyon looked towards Rachel once more.

“I had told Lisa I would be back early. Does she know I'm here?” he asked.

“Oh, yeah – I told her,” she replied. “She doesn't know the details of what happened, and she won't tell anyone about what she does know.”

“I see.” And Lanyon trusted that; Lisa was a woman of her word. But that got him thinking.

He had not only seen Hyde's soul in the Society when he had arrived. There was also the soul of Callista somewhere in the building as well, and the soul of Moreau further back. But he hadn't gotten the chance to look into those further, in favor of investigating what Hyde was doing there first. And now he had lost the chance.

What were they doing there, then?

 

* * *

 

 

Well, Creature knew what Moreau had been doing there, at least – and how the man had succeeded.

Now they were sitting in their and Frankenstein's room, empty except for them. They looked at all the notes and pieces of clay scattered about the room, as well as the near-finished golems resembling the two of them.

Their eyes soon fell on her enchanting gloves, and they picked those up, running their large fingers over them.

“ _I'll give you what you want, as long as no one dies today. Just leave them alone and take me with you.”_

If only they had been quicker to act...then maybe Frankenstein wouldn't be in Moreau's grasp right now.

“Creature?”

Creature looked up from the gloves, and saw Jasper standing in the doorway of the room. Jasper looked a little hesitant, but didn't flinch or look away.

“Are...are you alright?” he asked.

Creature shook their head, putting the gloves down. From the doorway, Jasper put his hands in his pockets, and then looked down. “Do...do you need some space?” he asked.

They looked at him for a moment. They could ask Jasper to leave, and that would leave them alone here, with everything that reminded them of Frankenstein. Reminded them of how she was taken. And maybe if Jasper had sought them out, that could mean the same would happen to him if they told him to leave.

So they sat up straighter, and looked at him. “You came all this way, and I guess I could use the company,” they said.

Jasper looked back up, and took that as a cue to to walk further into the room, his hands still in his pockets. He was careful not to step on anything on the ground as he made his way over to the table at which Creature sat, and then took the seat opposite them. Then he looked around, as if unsure where to start any possible conversation.

Creature decided to start it for him, then, and said, “You're not thinking about how untidy it is in here, are you?”

“Huh?” Jasper looked at them. “Of course not! I mean – my room isn't exactly immaculate either, and it seems as if Miss Frankenstein was hard at work here...”

“She was,” Creature said, in a tone softer than they had expected to speak in.

Jasper nodded, absently putting a hand up to his cheek. They recognized it as the place where Moreau had cut him with the dagger – there were still splatters of blood on his shirt to reinforce that fact. They drummed their fingers against the table – now they were unsure of how to carry on.

“...Listen,” Jasper began. “I came here to say that I'm sorry about Miss Frankenstein getting caught.”

“Why are you saying that?” Creature said, even as they weren't exactly surprised that he did say that. “This was not your fault.”

“I saw it; she would've had Moreau were it not for me calling out to her,” he went on. “And I tried to stop him–”

“I know.” They looked him in the eye. “I know all of that. But you were just doing what you thought you had to do. You can't blame yourself for not knowing any better back then.”

“Still...” Jasper trailed off. He then put his hands together onto the table. “I didn't want to think that you blamed yourself for what happened.”

That shouldn't have taken Creature by surprise, in their opinion, but it did. “What do you mean?”

“You were there too. You saw Moreau take her away. And-and you're her weapon. And friend.” Jasper interlocked his fingers, and continued, “I don't see why you wouldn't blame yourself for what happened. I do too, a bit.”

Creature opened their mouth. And then closed it again. That...was indeed what they had been doing alone here. Was Jasper thinking about them, wanting to help them? No wonder they were surprised. Not many people felt empathy for a golem, even a living one. Creature had thought about all this for a moment, before smiling a little.

“Blaming yourself won't make me feel better,” they said. “But I'm glad to know you were thinking of me.”

“Well, you did help me in that regard,” Jasper replied. “And we've got to help each other here, don't we? We have to work to make things right again.”

Creature nodded, before looking down again. “Work to make things right...” They leaned back in their chair. “How can we make things right when we don't even know where Frankenstein is?”

Jasper's small grin faltered, and he lowered his eyes as well. “That's...true.” He sucked in a breath. “That doesn't mean we can't look for her. Or Moreau. And where Moreau is, there Miss Frankenstein must be, right?”

“We could look for him, yes.” Creature then pointed at Jasper. “Except you have to go for your hearing at the Academy soon, right?”

His eyes widened. “Oh, Death,” he cursed. “That's right! And I'm just not sure how well I've been able to control my werewolf powers–”

Creature was about to put a hand up to placate Jasper, but then he slapped his hands against his cheeks, as if to snap himself out of it. He took a deep breath, and then looked at them.

“Sorry, I'm supposed to be here to check up on you,” he said.

“We all have moments of turmoil. And like you said, we have to help each other.” They then crossed their arms. “I would give anything to know where Moreau is keeping Frankenstein and help her right now, though.”

Jasper leaned forward, keeping his head bowed. “Me too.”

But already, Creature was fixing in their head a way to try and find their creator. They weren't going to leave her in Moreau's grasp, after all.

 

* * *

 

The soft sound of water flowing slowly came to the forefront of Frankenstein's mind.

Her first thought as she woke up was her wondering where the sound was coming from – the Society was nowhere near the ocean, or any body of water for that matter. As she opened her eyes, though, it became obvious that she wasn't within the Society. It was quite dark, and the air was thick. She groaned, and then pushed herself off the hard bed she was lying on, so she was sitting up.

That was right. She had been taken away by Moreau and held captive here. When she had fallen asleep, she didn't know. Maybe she had been too exhausted from the pain from her shoulder and the long walk to Moreau's hideout.

Frankenstein looked at her shoulder. It had been bandaged, and it wasn't bleeding anymore, but it did feel quite uncomfortable. She tried moving her arm. Her shoulder ached, and a chain which held said arm to the wall clinked. She then turned to look up at the chain. Above it was a window where the light of the moon shone through.

She then sighed sadly. How had she allowed herself to get into this situation...? No, she knew exactly why.

The sound of footsteps outside came to her attention. Frankenstein looked up at the door, and watched it expectantly. It wasn't long before the door creaked open, and the dim light of a candle in the doorway became apparent. Her eyes had adjusted to the dark now, so she squinted a bit – but she could see the outline of Moreau holding the candle, as well as the outline of a woman. But this was one she did not recognize.

“So that's Frankenstein?” the woman asked. “I would have expected to, you know, be able to see her.”

Moreau and the woman stepped closer, and he shone the light closer to Frankenstein's face. She flinched at the light, and yet she could see Moreau smile confidently.

“Here she is,” Moreau said, and behind him the woman nodded. Frankenstein tried to get a better look at her, but her face was still obscured by darkness.

“So you see,” he told the woman, lowering the candle, “I have succeeded in taking Frankenstein.”

“Do you already have the formula?”

“Not yet. I must let my little guest rest first.”

(Frankenstein would have objected to that term, but she held her tongue.)

“But I'm sure a magic user's soul is needed for the formula,” he went on, “if the legend of Arachne's demon weapons are anything to go by. And you told me you had a very potent soul of a sorcerer waiting for me.”

“Of course I do,” the woman said.

He extended a hand. “Then give it to me, witch,” he said.

Instead of seeming offended by the term, however, the woman only laughed and reached into a pocket in her dress. “No need to be so coarse with me; we already know each other.” She then pulled out a brightly glowing glass bottle, finally showing her face for the first time in its light. “Call me Miss Redrowe.”

Frankenstein's eyes widened. She had seen this woman's face – she was the woman whom she had stopped outside Jekyll's office, the one who had threatened her with a murderous look. (That was a very specific thing to remember, but Frankenstein had a hard time forgetting anyone who looked at her with murder on their mind.)

And Moreau...had called her a witch.

Everything was clicking into place in Frankenstein's mind as the witch then handed the bottle to Moreau. She knew that the bottle was not glowing by itself – there was a soul inside, and a strong soul too. A sorcerer's soul, she said?

“How did you ever find a sorcerer this strong and kill him?” Moreau asked, holding up the bottle with his free hand.

“Oh, it was simple. I picked one of the sorcerers of the Society for Witches and Sorcerers, and took him by surprise when he was apart from the rest of the magic users.” The witch grinned maniacally in the light. “To think that his little fireworks display at the Exhibition drowned out any of his cries for help.”

This time, Frankenstein could not withhold a gasp. This woman...killed the phoenix sorcerer? And she had been aiding Moreau this entire time?

The witch and Moreau turned towards Frankenstein when they heard her gasp. Then the former grinned, and leaned towards her.

“Where are my manners?” she asked, holding out a hand to shake. “It's a pleasure to meet you, Frankenstein.”

But Frankenstein kept her mouth shut, replacing her shocked look with a glare. The witch watched her for a few seconds, before giggling.

“I remember running into you at the Exhibition,” she said. “I had heard of you coming to the Society for Witches and Sorcerers from a certain someone, and in turn I directed Moreau there because he was looking for you. But I had no idea I had run into the only golem maker who could create a demon weapon out of a golem.” Then she tilted her head. “I could have killed you at the Exhibition when you caught me, sure, but to do that would be a terrible waste of effort. And knowing who you are now, I'm glad I didn't. It would have canceled my deal with Moreau.”

The witch then laughed some more, and Frankenstein grit her teeth together. “You have targeted the Society for this long,” she said. “What do you want from it? I can imagine killing a sorcerer would have been for Moreau's interests, but why would you then frame Jekyll's assistant?”

She stopped laughing, but kept her smile on. “Oh, dear,” she replied. “I imagine that is something I cannot carelessly say to you.”

She straightened up, and then turned to Moreau. “Have a good time getting her to tell you the formula, won't you? She seems feisty.”

“Of course.” Moreau had a wicked grin of his own as he spoke. “And I never did express my gratitude for your help.”

“Help? Oh, I was doing it in the hopes that you wouldn't resort to killing me,” the witch said, almost flippantly. “But if you choose to view it that way. I can only hope we won't have to meet again, Dr. Moreau.”

“And I express the same wishes,” He told her. “Now, I shall see you out.”

And he did so, as the two of them turned and went back out the door, before locking Frankenstein up in the dark yet again.

Frankenstein had half a mind to attempt escape, to somehow get free and tell the people at the Society about what she had just heard. But she knew she couldn't do it, not in the state that she was in right now. She had no tools that she could use to get herself free, and the window above was too far out of her reach.

It was then that the full hopelessness of her situation came to her, finally. She had nowhere to go, she would have to give her formula of creating demon weapons to a person who would very well use it to create mayhem. She had information she could use to help the Society, but she couldn't use it. She was injured, tired, and alone.

She didn't think she had felt being alone so intensely before.

Her shoulder stung again, and the sound of water outside only agitated her more. She tried to think her way out of this once more, tried to find a way to stop her shoulder from stinging, and tried to imagine herself outside, free.

But there was nothing she could do about it.

So she lied down yet again, and resigned herself to a few tears.

 


	2. Bitter, Bedridden, and Broken

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's a little introspection going on, and nobody likes it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I finished the second chapter in the midst of all the college work. That's nice.
> 
> Also in regards to the third part of this chapter, the setting makes sense when you think about a headcanon I've had about Archer for some time. Basically the headcanon that Archer is Filipino. Not to mention, we get to see a character we hadn't seen since The Society for Witches and Sorcerers!
> 
> Translations for the gratuitous foreign language are in the end notes.

Hyde stepped out of the infirmary, and closed the door behind him. Yet once his hand moved away from the doorknob, he made no move whatsoever to go away for a few moments.

The image of Lanyon, bleeding out on the floor and weakly looking up at him, didn't seem to leave his mind just yet.

“ _Henry...he's my partner...I have to stand by him.”_

He squeezed his eyes shut, and slapped his head, as if trying to get the memory out of his mind. He grunted, and took a few breaths. Why did it seem they were bordering on sobs?

“Come on, Jekyll,” he said, “you can't really believe him, can you?”

Jekyll said nothing, leaving Lanyon's voice to ring in his ears.

“He's not the perfect meister he wants you to think he is. You know that.”

Still nothing.

“Are you fucking giving me the silent treatment right now?”

“...Hyde?”

Hyde looked up, and came face to face with a few of the Lodgers. He wiped his nose (when did it become runny?), and put on a tough look, placing his hands in his pockets. “Are you here to kill me, or something?” he asked bluntly.

“What? No,” Sinnett said, holding his arm. “In fact, we...came here to apologize. For wanting to kill you before.”

“You're only apologizing because the truth came out that I'm Jekyll,” Hyde said coldly.

“We're apologizing because the truth came out that you were innocent of Luckett's murder,” Helsby said. “I mean, even if you weren't Jekyll, had there been other evidence that proved you innocent, we would apologize.”

“But would you kill me had you seen me before you obtained this evidence?” Hyde asked.

Bryson pursed his lips. “We know you're upset. Just let us make it up to you.”

“And Rachel,” Tweedy added. “We haven't been treating her well these past few days, I'll admit, but–”

“If you want to make it up to her, tell her yourself, dumbasses,” Hyde cut in, crossing his arms. “I'm no one's fucking mediator.”

He looked away, but he could sense that the Lodgers in front of him had no intention of moving. Flowers came forward, and tried to reach forward, but Hyde moved away from her.

“We are really, truly sorry, Mr. Hyde,” she said. “We didn't know who else to blame, but we shouldn't have thought of killing you, at least.”

“Yeah.” Sinnett nodded. “It was uncalled for.”

Hyde inhaled, then exhaled, and looked back at them. “It's still kind of disturbing how you jumped to killing me,” he finally said, “but someone did kill your friend. I guess the way things are between meisters, weapons, and magic users, your reaction shouldn't have come as a surprise.” He lifted his chin. “I still can't forgive you. But Jekyll and I want to catch Luckett's killer just as much as you do, so just wait until we catch the bastard to do your killing.”

“That's probably the most mature thing that we've ever heard come out of your mouth, Hyde,” Pennebrygg said.

“But we're glad you understand,” Flowers said.

Hyde simply shrugged. “What, you think I'm the immature one compared to Jekyll?” he asked, a corner of his mouth turning upwards.

“Speaking of which, is Dr. Jekyll alright?” Bryson asked.

Hyde uncrossed his arms. “I don't know,” he lied. “He isn't exactly chatting up a storm with me right now.” He then waved a hand. “Whatever. I need to get back to the office, so if you'll excuse me, I'm gonna go.”

And with that, he left the Lodgers, more hurriedly than he'd like to admit. He went up the stairs leading to the office, and once he reached the office, went inside and closed the door.

...He knew why Jekyll was so silent. It wasn't hard to deduce what was going on. Jekyll was not alright, and it had everything to do with Lanyon.

“Come on, Henry,” Hyde said quietly. “I'm sick and tired of this. Can't we talk?”

He looked at the mirror beside him, and Jekyll slowly faded into view. He looked, quite frankly, sick and tired as well. But there was no annoyance in his expression, just pain.

“ _I'm sorry, Edward,”_ he said. _“I just don't know what to say.”_

“Saying sorry to me? That's a first from you,” Hyde said bitterly as he walked over to the desk. “Is everyone going to start apologizing to me now?”

Jekyll sighed. _“No one wanted it to end up this way,”_ he said. _“You're making an effort to understand, which is good, but you're still running from something.”_

Hyde pulled open the top drawer. “I'm not the only one running from something,” he told him. “You still think Lanyon is a perfect meister.”

“ _I don't think that.”_

He paused in placing various alchemy apparatuses on the desk. “...What?”

“ _I don't think Lanyon is a perfect meister,”_ Jekyll said softly yet firmly. _“But I think that Lanyon needs me, and I need him. Like you and Rachel.”_

Hyde took another deep breath. His chest was stinging, but it was probably not from any physical ailment, to his disappointment.

“What makes you think I need anyone?” Hyde asked, beginning to prepare a certain formula. “I might share a body with you, but I certainly don't need your bleeding heart staining my skin.”

Jekyll looked at him. _“If you say so,”_ was all he said, as he rubbed at his cheek – where the scar was.

Hyde still didn't look up at him. “Still shaken up about it?”

“ _You know me so well.”_ A sigh. _“I'm tired.”_

He poured the salt into the flask containing a red liquid, and watched the formula change from red to purple to green.

“Then let's rest,” he said.

 

* * *

 

Meanwhile, Griffin felt like he had taken the longest rest of his life.

Slowly, he came to, and opened his eyes, blinking a bit. From the looks of the ceiling, he was in the infirmary – he had gotten into too many fights with DWMA students to not know what this room was. He inhaled deeply, and then looked to the bed at his left. For some reason, Lanyon was there, currently sitting up and helping himself to some soup. Griffin squinted, and decided to speak.

“Never would have expected you to be in here,” he said. At the sound of his voice, Lanyon started a little, and then looked at him. Then he swallowed what he had been chewing.

“As it happens, I have a perfectly good reason to be here,” he said coolly. Then his look softened, just a bit. “Do you feel better?”

Griffin patted his abdomen. It didn't hurt anymore, that was for certain. “I guess so.” He breathed audibly. “What happened while I was out?”

Lanyon put a finger to his chin. “Well, Hyde had been Jekyll this whole time, Frankenstein got captured, Archer ran off, I got stabbed, and the Society needs repairs once more. I think that adequately covers it.”

Griffin's eyes widened. Well, he had known about the first one – the transformation was pretty hard to get out of his memory – but he hadn't expected the situation to be that heavy.

And Archer...

He groaned, and then covered his face with his hands.

What had happened to Archer after he passed out? Was he alright? Why was he thinking that about a weapon who had tried to kill him?

He knew the answer to that last one, though.

And...had he told Archer he loved him? At such a ridiculous time?!

“Ugh, I'm so stupid,” he bemoaned.

“Judging by your record, your remark does not surprise me,” Lanyon commented.

Griffin looked at Lanyon through the gaps in his fingers. He would have expressed his annoyance at his comment, were it not for the door to the infirmary opening. The two of them looked up to see Rachel coming in, and when she saw Griffin, she came to him.

“Ah, you're awake, Mr. Griffin,” Rachel said. “Can I make you anything? You've been asleep for a while, so you must be hungry...”

Griffin waited for her to trail off, before he spoke, “...Where's Archer?” he asked.

Rachel paused, and pursed her lips. Then after a bit, she said, “I don't know. The moment the Cube dissolved, he ran for it. Guess he didn't want to get caught.”

He watched her carefully as she said this, and then nodded. “I see,” he said quietly.

That was that, he guessed. Archer had left the Society for Witches and Sorcerers. A part of him wanted to think that this was bound to happen anyway, what with him being a weapon in a magic user's place, but he had hoped that...

“Mr. Griffin, I already told you that Mr. Archer ran off,” Lanyon said. “Did you not hear me?”

“Maybe I just want extra details about what happened to Archer,” Griffin replied.

“The Lodgers deduced that he shot you on a high setting; is that true?”

“Well, yes, but–”

“So he tried to kill you. Why do you care so much about him, then?”

“He was my weapon partner and friend, believe it or not,” Griffin snapped. “And because your relationship with Jekyll is oh-so perfect, you wouldn't understand what it's like to realize you made your friend feel like garbage.”

Lanyon was stunned as Griffin turned his head away from him. That ought to shut the rich boy up. There was a silence for a few moments, before Lanyon finally mustered up a few words.

“No, I...I understand that, at least,” he said, and Griffin hoped that was shame in his voice. Then he went on, “Well...what are you going to do, now that Mr. Archer has gone?”

Griffin thought it over for a minute. And then decided he could do nothing but shrug.

To be honest...he guessed he had to be a little ashamed himself. He had caused this whole mess by saying those bad things...

He shook his head. No, this incident and the incident with the DWMA students were Callista's fault, at least. But he couldn't think of a way to make her pay.

(The thought of Callista providing Archer with refuge somewhere after this popped into his head, and he grit his teeth together just thinking about it.)

“Mr. Griffin?”

He looked back up. This time it was Rachel who had spoken. She looked at him, probably trying to give a look of reassurance.

“I can understand why you still care for him, even if he hurt you,” she said. “I mean, I don't want to excuse Mr. Hyde's actions – half the time I don't know what he's doing. And he went into hiding for a long time before I found out his secret, so that wasn't encouraging either.”

“Your point being?”

“I know Mr. Archer is nothing like Hyde,” Rachel said. “I don't know if he's hurting right now, or if he really doesn't feel bad about it. People can be hurtful about things when they don't know what else to do. But I guess if you're willing to hold out for him like I did for Hyde back then, then I think I get it a little.” Here she reached out and took his hand, and Griffin wasn't quite sure how to react. “But everything will be alright, hopefully, whether you two meet again or not.”

He looked down at her hand, and sighed.

“Hopefully,” he repeated.

“Hm...” Lanyon cut in, “...if you're planning to search for him, you can't do it now. You still have your hearing to attend.”

Oh. Right. “You said the Society needed repairs? We can't have the hearing here.”

“I'm sure Jekyll or I will negotiate the terms once more,” he replied. “We still have time to change the location. And you still have time to brace yourself for whatever verdict they might come up with.”

Griffin listened to him as he said all this, before covering himself with his blanket. And then groaning once more.

“Spare me,” he said.

Well, it would take more than that to prepare himself for what was coming.

 

* * *

 

Thunder rumbled in the sky, and at the sound of that, people hurried to their homes, trying to get off the streets before it rained. In the midst of all these people, however, there was one person who didn't seem like he was going anywhere for certain, instead looking around and wandering about.

This person happened to be Archer. As luck would have it, he had ended up in the slums of the diaspora where he grew up – he didn't know any other place to be. Besides, he knew this place well – people spoke familiar languages, and nothing had seemed to change about it in the time he had been away. For a moment, he almost smiled at his recollections of the place.

And then his eyes fell on a certain alley, somewhere in between a small pawnshop and a building of flats. Then his smile faltered.

This was...the place where he had met Griffin.

Slowly, he came forward, and continued to stare into the alley, putting a hand to the wall.

There had been thunder in the air, too, that night. He had forgotten what had compelled him to come back here that night – the memory of nearly being robbed by a person who could turn invisible kind of overshadowed that. He remembered that look of desperation in Griffin's eyes, the same desperation that led people to commit crimes.

But somehow, he had managed to convince Griffin to come to the Society for Witches and Sorcerers. And Griffin came, and the rest was history.

Archer sighed. He didn't remember what he had said to convince Griffin back then, either. Like he didn't remember what had come over him when he had shot him in the Cube.

He clenched his hand into a fist.

He wanted to believe Griffin was alive after what he had done. He wanted to believe that even if Griffin hated him now, he was still there at the Society, still with his fellow magic users. He wanted to believe that so badly.

Archer put a hand to his head. Death, why had he done that? What happened to him? Why had he done all those horrible things back at the Society?

Well...maybe it didn't matter now. What mattered was that the Society was no longer home for him. He had betrayed too many friends to come back.

Friends...they were his friends. Weren't they?

He shook his head, and then left the alley. However, he had barely gotten ten paces away from it when he heard familiar laughter coming from his left. Without thinking, he turned its way.

And there, among a group of women, he saw his older sister Philomena.

Archer's heart skipped a beat, his eyes widening.

Oh, Death. He remembered the last time he had seen her – but it wasn't with the gentle flow of his memories of Griffin. She left him to _die_ – she told him he _had_ to die – oh Death, and the pain–!

His hands trembled as they moved up to clutch at his abdomen. His breathing grew quicker – his blood ran cold. His eyes darted everywhere as he backed away, trying to look everywhere but her, but it didn't erase his flashbacks, and the sound of her laughing now rang in his ears, _why was she laughing didn't she know what she had done to him?_

He tried to calm himself, but it was no use.

Quickly, he turned around, and bumped into someone.

“ _Hoy, tumingin ka sa dinadaanan mo!_ ” the person yelled.

“ _P-pasensya po,_ ” he mumbled as he scrambled away from the scene.

What was he thinking? He couldn't come back here! He couldn't let his family know he was here! The Society had protected him from thinking about that life, but he couldn't go back to the Society and now everything was a mess! And it was all his fault!

Archer turned a corner, and stopped after he had done so, trying to catch his breath after the running. He clutched at his shirt, above his chest, and swallowed. His throat was dry.

Where could he go?

“Clockwork?”

That voice alone was enough to snap Archer out of his thoughts. He looked up, and saw...

“Atalanta?”

Atalanta tilted her head. “You look a little worse than usual. Are you–?”

She didn't get much of a chance to finish before Archer rushed forward and embraced her.

“Oh, thank Death, Atalanta!” he said, relieved. “Am I glad to see you!”

“That's...nice of you,” she replied, reaching up to pat his back. “Do you want to come to my house? 'Ye look like you could use some rest.”

“That'd be perfect,” he said, pulling away. At last, somewhere to be.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Hoy, tumingin ka sa dinadaanan mo!” - Hey, watch where you're going!
> 
> “P-pasensya po." - S-sorry.


	3. That's An Arrangement

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Archer arranges something with Atalanta, and Jekyll has a few talks with a few people.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My, this took longer to update than expected! Here we introduce a new OC, as well as give another name to one we've already met before.
> 
> And the existence of the staff's rooms are another shout out to The Murder Game, which highlights all my misconceptions about how the architecture of the Society works. The building of the Society is kind of like the Mystery Shack to me at this point.
> 
> Also, if one particular scene in the chapter seems a bit contrived, that's because it is...probably.

The next morning, Archer awoke in an unfamiliar house. He had been a bit surprised to wake up there at first, before remembering what had happened the previous day. So he put on his shoes (he had slept in his clothes), and headed out of the bedroom he had slept in towards the dining table.

Noticing Atalanta standing in the kitchen and making breakfast solidified the idea that this was indeed her flat he was in. He watched her, a bit curious, for a moment before she put out the stove, and that was when he decided to sit down in one of the two seats at the small table. There was a glass of milk in front of both seats.

A few moments later, she came towards the table with two plates of scrambled eggs and two slices of bread, and utensils. She set one plate down in front of him, and the other one in front of the chair across from him. There she seated herself, and handed his utensils towards him.

“Thanks,” he said as he received them.

She took up her utensils, but neither of them had touched their food before she spoke up.

“So, what brings you back in the area?” she asked. “I haven't seen you here since I recruited you into the underground ring.”

“Well,” Archer said, beginning to stick his fork into the food, “there's a reason why I haven't been 'round here.”

“What, did you get a fancy job working for the rich?”

Archer smiled, just the faintest bit. “Something like that.”

“Well, I mean, my brother has a job working for a rich man; it doesn't bother me,” she told him.

At the sound of that, Archer looked around while chewing. For a flat of a person living on their own, it did seem like another person should have been living there.

“So since your brother is there, you live on your own here?” he asked.

“Yeah, but I get the occasional visitor,” Atalanta replied. Then she began to eat as well for a bit, before continuing, “Now that we're not in the underground ring, and we've had a personal conversation, I guess it's fair that we should know each other's real names. It'd just be weird if I called you Clockwork now, and we should be friends.”

Archer had been eating while she was speaking, and now swallowed. “Oh – uh, sure.”

She put down her utensils, before extending a hand. “Petra Jones. And you are?”

He took her hand, shaking it a bit. “Christopher Archer.”

Atalanta's – no, Petra's eyes widened. “Archer?” she asked. “You mean, as in that family whose eldest son got arrested, and now are rumored to be criminals?”

Archer's smile faltered. “Oh...yeah.”

They released the other's hand, and she fell silent for a bit. Before Archer could say something to try and save the situation, however, Petra shrugged.

“Well, you led a sorcerer to the underground ring, I shouldn't be so surprised,” she said. “You aren't doing that sort of thing anymore, right?”

“Crime? No, unless you count the underground ring as illegal,” Archer said. Then he looked down at his food, and sighed. “Pretty sure I'm not gonna lead any sorcerers there anytime soon, either.”

Petra took a bite of her food, and finished it, before looking at him concernedly. “Something big must've happened, then.”

“I guess you can put it that way,” Archer said. He then fell silent as he ate a bit more – he didn't want to say anything more. How was he going to go into detail about what he had done, anyway?

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“No.” He saw the question coming a mile away.

Petra regarded him silently, before nodding. “Alright,” she said. “We can leave it at that.”

Archer's eyes wandered away from his food, but they still didn't meet hers. “Yeah,” he said, a tad quietly.

“Just so you know, I'm all ears if you wanna talk about anything,” Petra told him.

Archer smiled again, finally. “Well, there is one thing.”

“Hm?”

“D'you think I could...stay here for a bit?”

Petra put a hand to her head dramatically. “Oh no, what will my neighbors say that I've let a man I'm not family with into my home?” she said jokingly. She then laughed a little, before continuing, “But seriously, you can stay here as long as you need. As long as no one dangerous is hunting you down, or something.”

“Don't worry about it.” Would the Lodgers have gone after him? It was likely, but at the same time he guessed they wouldn't – if they had, they would have caught him by now. Besides, the Lodgers didn't seem to be in any state to go hunting after people when he left.

“Alright then, I guess that's an arrangement,” Petra said. Then she went back to eating.

Archer went back to eating, too. He guessed that it was.

 

* * *

 

When Jekyll woke up that morning, he felt quite groggy. He didn't know why at first – but then he remembered the events of the previous day. And then he groaned.

“ _Yeah, remembering's not the best thing to do right now,”_ Hyde said flatly.

“Good morning to you too, Hyde,” Jekyll said, pushing himself up into a sitting position. “I have some work to do.”

“ _Oh, work.”_ Hyde sighed. _“Wouldn't kill you to rest a little longer, you know.”_

“It wouldn't, were it not for the fact that there are people depending on me,” Jekyll replied. He pushed himself off the bed, and then began to put on his jacket and shoes. Hyde didn't say anything to that, so Jekyll fixed himself up a little in front of a mirror in peace. He smoothed out his shirt once more, and then went towards the door, walking out of it and into the hallway of the staff's rooms. (Believe it or not, there was a staff willing to work for a building housing magic users.)

He went out into the main hall, and had stepped a bit further when he saw Lavender in her cat form lying on one of the stairs, and she turned towards him.

“Dr. Jekyll!” she said, her ears twitching. “Are you feeling better?”

“I'm fine, don't worry,” he said. “Did anything come for me?”

Lavender sat up. “Two telegrams were brought to your office while you were sleeping,” she said. “I think one of them was from the Academy.”

Jekyll's eyebrows shot up. _“The Academy?”_ Hyde asked. Jekyll was about to say it as well out loud, before deciding he didn't need to, and he nodded at her. “Yes, thank you. Tell Robert I'll check on him soon."

“Will do,” Lavender said, getting up, and then trotting away. Jekyll turned back towards the stairs, and went up them to his office.

Once there, he shut the door behind him, and sure enough, there were two telegrams sitting upon his desk. One of them had the distinct mark of the DWMA on them, and Jekyll eyed it as he walked towards the desk.

“ _What do those busybodies at the Academy want this time?”_ Hyde asked.

“It has something to do with Jasper's and Griffin's hearings,” Jekyll replied. “I have to tell them that the Society isn't exactly fit for a visit from them.”

“ _Boy, I'll say,”_ Hyde agreed. _“Well, what about the other one?”_

Jekyll turned to the other one, and he picked it up, before reading it carefully.

_Jekyll, I think I may no longer desire to provide funding for your Society. Have a good day. C. Redrowe._

Upon reading the name at the end of the telegram, Jekyll slowly lowered it, and then walked around the desk to his chair – but he didn't sit down. Instead, he sighed, and rubbed his forehead.

“ _...What the hell?”_ Hyde asked. _“How could she do something like that after making a big deal of how good she thought the Society was?”_

“I can't blame her; she was there yesterday,” Jekyll said. “She must have seen me transform into you. Not to mention, she must have thought that a place that attracts this much trouble wasn't worth it after all.”

“ _I know you don't believe that,”_ Hyde said. _“And it's unfair of her to do that at such a crucial time for us. She always use to make a fuss about whether we were alright after a bad thing happened – why would she lose interest in us now?_ ”

Jekyll took a deep breath. “That doesn't matter, Hyde,” he said tiredly. “What matters is that she has withdrawn her funding, and we just have to deal with it.” He then went over to the mirror in his office. “I have to call the Academy.”

Hyde huffed, but otherwise made no objections as he stood in front of the mirror, and then breathed a cloud of fog onto it. While it remained on the glass, he then wrote a certain combination of numbers onto the cloud.

“42-42-564, whenever you want to knock on Death's door,” Jekyll chanted as he did so. When he finished, the mirror began to ripple, and then glow, before a certain image appeared on the mirror.

“Hello, Lord Death?” Jekyll asked, and sure enough, Lord Death turned around to face him.

“Oh, Henry Jekyll,” he said with some surprise. “I certainly wasn't expecting to receive a call from you at this moment.”

“Was I interrupting something?” Jekyll asked.

“Not at all, Henry,” Lord Death told him. “What did you want to call me about?”

“Probably something about the hearings of Mr. Griffin and Mr. Kaylock,” another voice chimed in. Jekyll turned his eyes to Death's right, and standing there was his personal Death Scythe, Nadeshiko Nakatsukasa. She then noticed Jekyll looking at her, and went on, “But you shouldn't worry so much, Henry. The people who'll carry out the hearings are varying degrees of reasonable, at least.”

“Hello, Nadeshiko,” Jekyll greeted his old classmate. “I for one am relieved to see you standing there.”

“Instead of Seire? Yeah, I get it,” Nadeshiko replied. “I heard he had a fit the last time you two talked. Then again, that's a rare occurrence nowadays. That Griffin must've really put him on edge.”

“It's nothing he couldn't handle.” Jekyll hoped that was correct. But he let it go, and cleared his throat. “Anyway...Lord Death, Nadeshiko, I didn't call just to make small talk. The truth is that the Society cannot have Griffin's hearing here right now.”

“Oh?” Lord Death leaned in closer. “Why not?”

“Something...happened that will require some repairs,” he explained. “Not to mention, I don't think the Lodgers will take kindly to having Academy personnel staying here after what happened.”

“Seems like it was a big deal,” Lord Death commented. He then said to Jekyll, “It's not too big a request to make, though. I think we can have preparations for the hearing to be at the Academy – it's the only place that can take a hearing of a sorcerer on such short notice. But it will have to be on the same day as Mr. Kaylock's hearing.”

“That will be alright,” Jekyll said. “At least they won't be alone.”

“Well, I look forward to seeing what they've got,” Nadeshiko said. “I mean, I won't be at the hearing, but I'll be signing the final verdict on Mr. Kaylock's hearing after all the evidence is gathered. And I'll have to meet them when they come to the Academy.”

“At least you're excited about it,” Jekyll said. “I can't imagine how they're feeling about it right now.”

“Well, whatever happens, I'll make sure the decisions made are fair and reasonable,” Lord Death said. “And I'll hope Concord's emotions don't get the better of him. He's going to sign Griffin's verdict, as it's under his jurisdiction.”

Jekyll didn't have the heart to tell Death that that statement wasn't exactly reassuring. “I see,” he said instead. “Well, now that we've gotten that out of the way, I think I shall not keep you two any longer. You have work to do, students to watch over.”

“Paperwork to fill,” Nadeshiko added. Then she waved a hand, and Lord Death did the same as she finished, “Anyway, goodbye, Henry. Good luck on those repairs.”

“See you around!” Lord Death said as well. Then the call cut out, and that left Jekyll staring at Hyde in the mirror.

“ _Well, that's one more thing we've gotten out of the way,”_ Hyde said. _“Wonder how you're going to break it to Academy-hating Griffin that he's gonna go there for his hearing.”_

“It'll be fine,” Jekyll told him. “I'll find a way to do that, and he'll find a way to deal with it on short notice.”

Hyde nodded, and then looked away. _“You're surprisingly composed considering you made this decision to shift the venue without Lanyon.”_

Jekyll shrugged. “I have to be comfortable with it sometime, I guess.”

“ _What do you mean by that?”_ Hyde asked. _“First you say that you and Lanyon need each other, and now you're saying you have to get used to this kind of making decisions without him? Aren't you dependent on him, or something?”_

“We do need each other,” Jekyll said. “But it might be more complicated than that.”

“ _Well, un-complicate it. Go talk to Lanyon and see what he thinks.”_

Jekyll looked down, thinking. Then he nodded.

“Alright, he said. “Let's go see Robert.”

 

* * *

 

Currently, Rachel was occupying Lanyon's attention as they stayed inside the infirmary. She had talked with him for a bit as he fixed his jacket, tie, and shoes, before thanking him for saving her meister, and all that. He kept telling her it wasn't that big a deal, but it certainly was to her, and he was probably just being modest about it.

“But seriously,” she said, “next time, don't go hurling yourself in front of knives. You spooked a lot of us!”

“Come now, I'm sure at least Hyde wasn't as shocked by that as you were.”

“But he's the same person as Jekyll; they share memories and stuff,” Rachel said. “Two years of Edward Hyde existing won't change the shock he experienced when you did that.” A pause. “At least, that's what I think.”

Lanyon stared at her for a bit, before smiling, a little soberly. “They share memories, huh.”

Their conversation paused just as the door to the infirmary opened. They both looked up  – and it was Jekyll who was coming in.

Rachel then happened to glance at Lanyon, and saw that his eyes were fixed upon his weapon partner. And sure enough, just a few seconds later, Jekyll turned and saw him, their eyes meeting.

She almost thought that they were going to freeze for a while, but that while turned out to be short-lived as Jekyll quickly moved to come near the bed. He finally came near Lanyon, and raised his arms just a bit, as if going for an embrace – but stopped himself, and lowered his arms.

“Robert,” he began. “I'm so glad to see you again.”

Lanyon stood up from the bed, and turned his body towards him. “I...I am too, Henry.”

“I'm sorry I couldn't see you earlier–”

“–you were exhausted, I know–”

“–I should have gone to see you–”

“–it's alright.”

Jekyll swallowed. “Right...” he said. He put his hands together, interlocking his fingers. “Nothing's giving you any trouble?”

Lanyon shook his head. “The Lodgers healed me right up. I'm practically good as new.”

He nodded. “Look, Robert, I...” he tried to say, but couldn't finish. Rachel watched him for a few seconds, before she walked over to him, and whispered to him.

“Thank him, Doctor,” she said. “For saving you.”

He glanced at her, as if unsure whether to follow her or not. But after a second, he turned towards Lanyon, and said, “I...have to thank you. For...you know.”

Lanyon tried to smile. “It's alright, Henry. I only did what I had to do.”

Pain appeared on Jekyll's face. “Did you really have to, though?” he asked softly.

“What do you mean – of course I had to,” Lanyon told him. “I couldn't just leave you to get stabbed. Even if Hyde might not have wanted my help.”

“Yes, but–” Jekyll inhaled, before continuing, “you know it's my duty to die for you, not the other way around.”

“You think I haven't been told the same thing over and over again?” Lanyon's voice rose a bit. “If you really are ready to die for me, why can't I be ready to die for you?”

“It's not your responsibility!”

“I don't want it to be yours, either!” He clenched his hands into fists. “I don't want whether I live or die to be a burden you have to bear! Isn't that...isn't that why Hyde said I was the reason you created him?”

“I never meant that!”

“Then what did you mean?”

“Excuse me...?”

Jekyll and Lanyon looked at Rachel, and she raised her hand, a little timidly. “The Lodgers...”

They then looked up, and saw what she saw: a few of the Lodgers, watching the two of them from the open door to the infirmary. They then looked at each other, and a second later Jekyll's eyes darted away.

“I never meant that, I don't know, I...” he stammered, before running his fingertips over his scar. “...Don't scare me like that, Robert. Please.”

Lanyon's face softened. “Henry...”

Jekyll sniffled, and then shook his head. “I apologize, I didn't mean to cause a scene.”

“You did watch me almost die, I suppose you ought to cause a little scene,” Lanyon tried to joke.

He didn't say anything to that. He only lowered his hand from his face.

Rachel looked from Lanyon to Jekyll, and decided to change the subject. “Um...” she said, and the two of them turned to her again. She clapped her hands together, and then tried, “So, Dr. Jekyll, how's Hyde been?”

Jekyll tried to smile. “Oh, he's exhausted from last night too. But he's doing fine.”

Rachel nodded, and then looked down. “So...I guess now that the others at the Society know that you and Hyde are the same person, you can safely say that Hyde didn't kill Mr. Luckett.”

“To the Lodgers, yes,” Jekyll said. “But as for the police, we can't turn it around until we find proof that someone else did it. No one else can know Hyde and I are the same.”

“Of course, that's going to be hard,” Lanyon said. “Whoever framed Hyde knew not to lead it to them.”

Rachel sighed. “I wish I could help with that...”

“There's no need to trouble yourself, Rachel,” Jekyll said. “When something comes up, we'll let you know.”

She pursed her lips together, only more troubled than before. But neither Jekyll nor Lanyon seemed to see her, as they looked back at each other.

“So if you – or Hyde – didn't mean what you said about me being the reason why you created him, then what did you mean?” Lanyon asked.

“Oh, well – you see–”

Just as he was gathering his words, however, the clock began to chime the hour. The three of them looked up, and then Jekyll caught himself.

“Oh, goodness, I shouldn't keep you,” Jekyll said to Lanyon. “You have patients, and you have to go back home–”

“That can wait, Henry,” Lanyon began, but Jekyll was already leading him back towards the door.

“But you're a doctor, of course you can't make your patients wait; and I myself have a lot of work to do,” Jekyll went on. “We must talk later, Robert, but I'm afraid not now.”

“At least give me a short answer,” Lanyon insisted just as he was at the door. “Why did you create Edward Hyde?”

Jekyll paused. He took a deep breath, and then said, “It was mostly an experiment in good and evil.”

“...Oh, I see,” Lanyon said, when Jekyll didn't continue. “I suppose I shouldn't keep you from your work, then.”

He waved, and then left through the now empty doorway. Jekyll waved back a bit, and Rachel walked up to him as he closed the door.

“Is that what you meant to say to him?” she asked.

“Not the whole of it,” Jekyll admitted. Then he tried to smile. “But we can talk about it later.”

“...You seem to have a habit of leaving things you need to say for later,” she said. “What if something like yesterday happens again?”

Jekyll paused for a few seconds.

“It won't happen,” he said. “He needs me, so I'll be there to protect him.”

“Is that really how he needs you?” Rachel asked. “He said it himself, he doesn't want your duty to be to die for him.”

“...”

“Henry?”

“...I'm fine,” he said. “I just...if I shouldn't do that, then what do I do?”

Rachel put her hands together. “I think it scares you...but the truth is, you already know.”

He turned fully towards her, and placed a hand on her shoulder. “You know, you don't have to help me or Hyde this much.”

“I...yeah.” Rachel reached up to tug at her pigtails. “I just help because I want to, you know? And – and that's what Dr. Lanyon did. He didn't jump in front of that blade just to scare you, he wanted to help. Not because it was his duty or anything."

Jekyll watched her talk, before nodding. “I guess...I'm the foolish one here, then.”

And before she could say anything to the contrary, he walked away, muttering something about going back to work and gathering funds or something like that.

She watched him until, for some reason, an ache of frustration welled up in her chest.

 


	4. Time of Departure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's time for Jasper and Griffin to depart from the Society, for now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The time has come for Jasper and Griffin to have their hearings! Also, Rachel and Archer make appearances.
> 
> That's really all I have to say on the matter, other than that I hope you enjoy this!

 It was another night when Rachel found herself loading food onto a cart and delivering it to the Lodgers. Sure, most of them ate in the dining hall, but there were a select few that didn't. That didn't bother her much, though. In fact, it wouldn't have bothered her at all that night if one of those Lodgers wasn't Jasper.

Where was he? He usually ate with the other Lodgers in the dining hall. But that didn't seem to be the case that night, and so Rachel only trusted that she would run into him on her rounds.

Luckily for her, she didn't have to look far. Jasper was on the first floor at least, in the common room. And across the room from him, in front of the fireplace, was none other than Griffin.

What a coincidence, she thought. It was the night before their hearings at the Academy. Griffin didn't take the news that he would be going to the Academy very well, but at least he wasn't sulking in his room like he usually did after an outburst. Maybe he wanted the company. Or maybe Jasper did. Either way, they didn't seem to mind each other's presence. That, Rachel supposed, was a good thing.

Taking a deep breath, she came in with two trays of food. Jasper looked up at her, and their eyes met.

“I, uh, brought dinner,” she said, a bit quietly.

He nodded, and so she walked over to him first. She placed the tray down in front of him, and he looked down at it. “Thank you,” he said, quietly as well.

She then walked over to Griffin, and placed the tray in front of him. His eyes darted towards her, and she slowly pulled away from the tray. He stared at her for a couple of seconds, before turning back to the book he was reading.

Rachel then sighed. She didn't have time for conversation, anyway, no matter how much she hoped someone would say something. It contrasted with the scene of the dining hall earlier, where the Lodgers had showered her with apologies. (She didn't know why they were apologizing so much, especially when it was Hyde they had mostly been insulting the days before.) She lingered a little in silence, waiting for someone to talk, before deciding that it simply wasn't a night for that.

She just hoped they would both come back to the Society after their hearings, so that the Lodgers wouldn't have to lose another one of their own.

“Um...Rachel.”

Rachel had turned to leave, but that stopped her in her tracks. She turned to Griffin. “Yes?”

“...” Griffin stared at her, his mouth pressed in a thin line. Was he...having trouble saying something to her? “...Thank you. For...what you said the other night.”

Rachel was surprised. Griffin rarely ever said sentences that long to her. “It's-it's nothing, really,” she said “I didn't think that was worth remembering.”

“As if you don't spend every waking hour helping other people,” Griffin told her. “You don't think people remember what you do for them?”

“Yeah, you helped me too by talking me through things, and you snapped me out of my werewolf state when the Death Scythe visited,” Jasper added. Rachel looked up at him, and he looked a little shy, but continued, “You still cooked for the Lodgers these past few days even though a lot of them didn't like that you were Hyde's partner.”

“And it might've been your job to cook for them, but you didn't even slip garbage into their food, which I definitely would have done,” Griffin interjected.

“You're really something, Rachel Pidgley,” Jasper finished.

Rachel looked at the two of them. They noticed things like that? She tried to smile for them – but she couldn't hold it, not with her emotions in turmoil inside her.

“I appreciate what you all are saying, but...I don't really feel like I was as helpful as you think I am,” she said. “I wasn't even able to do much during that fight with the golem, and Edward was nearly put in danger. I probably should have been the one to save him, instead of Dr. Lanyon – and I know it's alright now, but what if it wasn't? I...I should have done more.”

“Hey, you might not have been the one to save Hyde from that golem, but you stayed by his side even when everyone else was against him,” Griffin pointed out, saying the last part a little quietly.

“That went a long way in stopping the Lodgers from just lynching him outright; you stayed with him that day,” Jasper went on.

“Everyone was in shock, it wasn't just me–”

“But you still helped.” Jasper stood up from his seat, and walked over to her. “Didn't you believe in Mr. Hyde when no one else did? Didn't you keep the secret that he and Dr. Jekyll were the same person so no one would suspect Dr. Jekyll?” A pause. “Well, suspecting Dr. Jekyll would be a bit much, but there's the possibility...”

“It's fine, I get what you two are saying,” Rachel said. She then folded her arms. “But I mean...it would be nice if my meister said the same."

Griffin didn't say anything, though he did look a little somber. Jasper, however, came even closer, and put a hand on her shoulder. “Well, I don't know what Hyde thinks,” he told her. “But I get the feeling he cares about you more than you think.”

She looked down. “You really think so?”

“It's just what I think.” Jasper shrugged. “Maybe you two should talk about it?”

She nodded. “Yeah, I guess. Just hoping he won't avoid it or anything. He doesn't seem like the type for emotional talk...”

Jasper took a deep breath, and then smiled a bit. “Everything is gonna be alright. Hyde might surprise you.”

She smiled as well. “He is full of surprises.”

They both looked down for a moment, and then Jasper was the first to look back up. “I really wish I knew if I were coming back,” he said. “I want to help the Society get back on its feet.”

“You will help it get back on its feet by doing this.” Rachel took his hands in her own. “If you two don't go to your hearings, and you're deemed suspicious and bad, who knows what that would do to the Society.”

Jasper sighed. “Alright. I just wish that we didn't have to do this.”

“ _You_ shouldn't,” Griffin finally said. “They're just suspecting you because you're a werewolf. I actually hurt people.” He huffed. “Suppose the Society's better off without me.”

“But now that you're here, we don't want to lose you too,” Rachel told him. “Who knows, maybe you'll be able to come back too.”

He nodded. “Well, we all have things we hope for.”

She supposed she couldn't argue with that.

 

* * *

 

The next morning, Jasper and Griffin packed up a few of their things (Jekyll had told them to pack for only a few days despite their worries that they would have to take a ship to New York), and now found themselves standing in the main hall alongside Jekyll. 

Jasper looked at Jekyll, but it seemed that he was deep in thought. So he decided not to bother him for a space. He then looked to Griffin, who glanced back at him.

“Nervous, wolf boy?” Griffin asked.

Jasper looked away. “A little.” 

“Yeah, well, let's hope these Academy busybodies know what they're doing,” he replied. Then he didn't say anything more.

Jasper understood, though. An organization that seemed to largely discriminate against them were now going to rule out any consequences for their situations as they saw fit. Back before he became a werewolf, he would have said with absolute certainty that the DWMA was a force for good. However, now that he was a werewolf, he couldn't help that it wasn't as completely benevolent as it made itself out to be.

_"So you're intimidated? That doesn't sound very brave of you."_

As usual, the wolf was taunting him. Jasped closed his eyes, and took a deep breath.

It was only when this breath ended, though, that the door opened, revealing a few people wearing the symbol of Death on their uniforms. Standing in front of them was who else but Seire, and he led the way as they come in. From the group of Academy workers, Jasper could see the face of the man who had captured him before Jekyll stepped in to save him – Carten, was it? Somehow he felt uneasy that this person still thought he was worth restraining.

Seire eventually stopped in front of Jekyll, while the officers stopped as well, and looked Griffin and Jasper over. Griffin did not look entirely unapologetic as he faced them, but he certainly did keep his chin up. Jasper wished he could do the same.

“Well, I see that the two of them are all ready,” Seire said to Jekyll. “You know, it's a good thing we're not dragging this out. I can't keep managing your Society every little time one of your magic users gets in trouble. I'm in charge of an entire continent.”

“Yes, I'm sure you're quite busy,” Jekyll said. “But your time is most appreciated, Seire.”

“Come on, you and I both know you don't want me 'meddling' in your Society, or whatever your magic users call it.” Seire then waved a hand. “Let's take them and bring them to the Academy right away.”

The officers grouped around Griffin and Jasper, leaving them no chance of escape. The only thing they could do now was take their things and leave with the Academy personnel. However, Jasper took a moment to glance over his shoulder at Jekyll, who was still standing in the main hall. He seemed even more pensive than before, but when he caught Jasper's eye, he put on a smile and waved. And that was the last that Jasper saw of him before they shut the Society doors behind them.

_“Well, I'm sure we can teach you how not to lose yourself to the madness.”_

_“Don't you want to control your powers and do the same? Don't you have people you want to protect?”_

Jasper swallowed. Did it really do him any good to remember Luckett's and Frankenstein's words at a time like this? He swallowed, and then turned back towards the path they were being led on.

 _“Yes, that won't help at all, will it?”_ the wolf asked him. _“One of them is dead, and the other one has disappeared. And you came so close to saving her, too! And now look where you are. You've failed them. No one can stand for you, unlike before.”_

Jasper took another deep breath. “I know that,” he muttered.

_“...Huh?”_

“I know no one can stand for me now. But now's my time to stand for everyone who did so. I'm just getting started, I haven't failed them yet.”

He clenched his hands into fists. At that moment, he suddenly felt determined to do his best to come back to the Society.

...Was the wolf stunned into silence?

 

* * *

 

Things had been quiet at Petra's house, for the most part. No one came by, most especially not people looking for Archer. He occupied his time helping her with the various chores around the house, and talked with her quite a lot, as well. Nothing about the Society, of course, but they had so much to talk about now that their interactions weren't limited to the underground battle ring. Things seemed...alright.

But maybe Archer talked so much because he wanted to get his mind off of what happened at the Society. How he fought with and injured his friends...how he...killed...

“Oh, yeah, I forgot to tell you.”

Petra's voice snapped him out of his thoughts, and he looked up at her. “Yeah?” he asked.

“My brother had sent me word that he's coming over here today.” she said. “It wasn't that long a time since my last letter to him, so I figured I could just tell him today about you staying here.”

“Is...that going to be alright with him?”

She shrugged. “Who knows? It's not like he's one of those overprotective older brother types.”

That didn't sound as reassuring as it was probably intended to be. Archer opened his mouth to say something, but then there came a knock at the door.

“Oh, I'll get it,” Petra said, and Archer watched as she went to the front door. She opened it, and in the doorway Archer saw a man carrying a bag; he was a little older than her. Judging by her friendly tone and the way she embraced him, it was her brother. He then swallowed nervously as she stepped aside to let him in, and his eyes met his.

“Who is that?” he asked, and Petra looked up, having closed the door behind him.

“Oh, right,” she said. “William, that's Christopher Archer. He's staying here for the meantime.”

“Archer?” His voice became quieter, though Archer could still make it out. “Don't tell me he's a fugitive.”

“He's not! Well, that's what he told me, anyway. I've actually no clue why he wants t'stay here all of a sudden.”

“Hm.” William walked over to Archer, and then looked him over. Archer kept his eyes on him as he did, before finally William was satisfied, and nodded.

“Well, you better not pull anything stupid,” he told Archer. “Petra's not gonna like it if you didn't have any gratitude towards her.”

“I have gratitude, believe me,” Archer said, a little more nervously than he would admit.

He stared at him for one more moment, before laughing. “Well, if she says you're alright, then I believe her. Forgive me for being a little concerned about your name.”

“I've heard about the rumors, don't worry,” Archer said, finally relaxing a little.

William nodded once more, and then turned back to Petra. “So, it appears you've been busy here,” he said.

“Yeah, I have been,” she replied. “But what's going on with you? Wasn't that a long time, but I still wonder what's going on.”

“Just the usual, nothing remarkable to speak of.”

Really?”

“Yeah.” He set the bag he was carrying down onto a chair at the table. “Though I did come across an odd sight on my way here.”

“Oh? How odd?”

“People coming from Broadwick Street. A bunch of DWMA officers.”

Archer's interest was piqued, even though he wasn't sure if he wanted to eavesdrop. Broadwick Street was the street on which the Society for Witches and Sorcerers was situated. And DWMA officers? Could William be talking about them getting Jasper for his hearing?

“I'm not surprised. That one place there, it seems t'attract a lot of the Academy's attention,” Petra said, walking around William to the table, before leaning on a chair.

“Mm-hmm,” William agreed. “Lots of people were staring and talking, too, saying something about how they were bringing a werewolf _and_ a sorcerer with them–”

“A sorcerer?”

Petra and William both looked at Archer, who had now turned and looked intently at them. “What – what did they look like?”

William shrugged. “Well, I didn't get that good a look at them. But one of them did look kind of strange, what with having white hair and–”

Archer's eyes widened. “Oh, Death,” he said.

“What is it?” Petra asked.

“It's – I–!” He began to make for the door. “I have to go!”

However, Petra went after him and grabbed his arm. “Hey! What do you mean?” she asked. “Don't tell me it has something to do with that!”

“It has everything to do with that, I thought I...!” Archer looked back at her, and tried to calm himself. “Look, you remember that sorcerer I brought to the underground ring?”

Petra's mouth fell open. “That's him?”

“That's him, and I bloody messed up!” Archer said. “I have to see him again before he gets on a boat and leaves for months!”

“Alright, first of all, you can't seriously be planning on going after him without some sort of plan,” Petra said. “And second, if they need to take that sorcerer to the DWMA fast, they're not gonna use a boat for a two month long journey from here to the Academy.”

“What, really?” Archer turned fully towards her this time. “Well, how're they gonna get to the Academy if they don't do that?”

“I heard that–” William began, as if trying to insert himself into the conversation, but Petra held up a hand to stop him.

“I'm not done,” she said. Then she looked back at Archer. “Even if we told you what the quickest way into the DWMA is, what're you gonna do? Sneak in? The DWMA isn't the most forgiving of authorities if they catch you. Why would you risk that for a sorcerer?”

Archer threw his hands up. “Because I love him, ok?!”

There was a pause, before Archer clapped his hands over his mouth. Fuck.

“...Awkward,” William nervously said. Petra, meanwhile, looked away.

“...I mean,” Archer slowly lowered his hands from his mouth after a few seconds, “I did wrong by him. But I want to make up for it, because I love him. I'm not...I'm not even sure if he'll accept my apology or not. I just want him to know that I don't want to do such a thing to him ever again.”

Petra looked over him carefully. “That...” she said, “...is the most stupidly sentimental thing I've ever heard.”

“I don't know, that pretty much touched me,” William said, putting his hands together.

“Both of you, quite sentimental,” Petra sighed.

Archer rolled his eyes. “Will you help me or not?”

“It's a fool's errand.” She then put a hand on her hip. “But I guess we can help you with that.”

“Thank you.” Archer felt relieved. “What should I do?”

The two of them looked to William, who opened his mouth.

 


	5. The Ship To The Academy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Griffin and Jasper arrive in the DWMA.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's about time that we established the DWMA as a setting in the story, and not just some abstract organization out to get the Society. Well, they're technically not out to get the Society, but I guess I might have made it seem that way?
> 
> I had to explain a little headcanon about how DWMA students in Soul Eater can move quickly from the Academy's location to other countries and back. Neat, huh?
> 
> Also, prepare for the beginning of a bunch of resolutions to the conflicts!
> 
> ...And some other stuff that's kind of throwaway but might be involved in the oneshots I might post after this is finished.

It wasn't too long until Griffin and Jasper, accompanied by Seire and the DWMA officers, arrived at the docks. Griffin noticed how Jasper eyed the ships there with a little unease, and his brow creased. Were they getting on a ship after all? If so, what was that about Jekyll telling them that they only needed to pack a few days' worth of things?

Seire led the group towards a certain ship, which looked as if it were waiting for passengers to get on. He then held up a hand for the officers behind him to stop, before moving forward and talking to a person standing by the gangplank, as if guarding it. Griffin eyed that person, and saw the symbol of Death on his jacket.

After talking for a bit, the man by the ship stood to attention, and Seire turned back towards the group. He then motioned for them to come forward – onto the ship.

Two officers, with Jasper between them, came forward first, and they moved onto the gangplank to go onto the ship. Griffin was soon next, with two more officers in front of and behind him. He walked with them behind Jasper, as they got on the ship and went below deck.

The ship's interior seemed polished, but at the same time not entirely new. Griffin couldn't help but feel a little suspicious as they were soon led into a darkened room. They waited for Seire to come in after them, before he closed the door behind him, and plunged the room into total darkness.

The darkness did not last for long, however. Just two seconds after it overtook the room, a small light shone in the room, from a light bulb hanging from the ceiling by a wire. Standing below this light was a woman, whose features implied an Eastern origin. She regarded them with a smile that was playful but at the same time straightforward.

“Are these two Jasper Kaylock and Jackson Claude Griffin?” she asked.

“Jackson Claude?” Jasper repeated, and Griffin's eyes darted away in embarrassment.

“Yes, they are,” Seire told her. “We didn't keep you waiting here, did we?”

“Just a little.” Then she turned her words to the two of them. “My name is Nadeshiko Nakatsukasa. I'm the personal Death Scythe of Death himself.” She then smiled wider. “Welcome to the Death Weapon Meister Academy.”

“The Death Weapon Meister Academy?” Jasper asked. “Isn't this a ship going there?”

“Yes and no,” she replied. “You're in a stationary portal. This room is one of the quick links between the Academy and any major city in the world. Only authorized personnel and students with an identification card are allowed to use such a means of transportation.”

“A portal,” Griffin huffed, crossing his arms. “That's spatial magic. Did Death steal this magic from the witches?”

“Since I'm not sure myself, I'll bring your question to the boss,” Nadeshiko told him. “But you're a feisty one. Mr. Griffin, was it? I'm sure Seire might enjoy showing you to one of the rooms below the Academy.”

At the sound of his name, Seire looked shocked. “Me?!” he asked. “I already tried just talking to him once. Needless to say, he was perfectly insufferable.”

“ _I_ was perfectly insufferable?” Griffin snapped.

“What else am I going to call you being that belligerent?”

“You shut your mouth!”

“Boys, boys,” Nadeshiko interrupted, before Seire could open his mouth. “Like it or not, Lord Death himself told me that you should be the one to accompany the sorcerer to his room, and I be the one to accompany the werewolf. So are we good on that?”

“...Yes,” Seire grumbled. Griffin figured that she was one more person he answered to.

He rolled his eyes, and then looked back at him. “I guess I'll show you where you'll be staying,” he said curtly, before walking towards the door behind Nadeshiko, on the other side of the room. He supposed it was wiser to follow him.

They walked out the door, and it was only then that Griffin noticed that there were people outside in the hallway. Judging by their youthful looks, most of them appeared to be students. They weren't exactly staring, but they did sneak a few more glances at him than what were considered appropriate. He wished he could turn invisible right about now, but he knew that if he released his Soul Protect, he would probably cause a panic.

They were both silent for the most part, as Seire led him down the hallway towards a stairway, and as a result Griffin couldn't help but look around. So this was the place where Jekyll and Lanyon had studied once, where Archer had once longed to be? It was surreal to be here, to say the least, surrounded by the weapons and meisters he resented so much.

Once they reached the stairway, they descended into the lower grounds of the school. The walls turned from concrete to gray brick, and the air was thicker and hotter. Once they were low enough, Seire and Griffin went down another hallway, and then finally stopped in front of the fifth door to their right.

“This will be your room for the duration of your stay at the Academy,” Seire told him, a little grumpily. He then reached into his pocket for something – a key, which he pulled out and used to unlock the door. All the while he was grumbling something about how he couldn't believe he was doing this.

The door opened, and Griffin looked into the room. It was mostly bare, with a bed and a desk and chair. The sole window in the room was high up, and there were bars over it. He stared for a bit, before sighing, and moving his things inside.

He had set his bag on the bed when he noticed something move behind him, and he turned to see Seire still standing in the doorway, though he was now inside the room.

“What?” Griffin asked.

“I'm just seeing if you're going to try anything,” Seire said, quite tense.

“Well, you're out of luck, I've got nothing to try.”

Seire turned around, placing his hands in his pockets. But he didn't leave just yet, instead opting to say, “Jekyll told Lord Death that you have a weapon partner.”

_Had,_ Griffin's mind corrected, but it wasn't like he was going to say that. “What of it?” he asked instead, a little uncomfortably.

“He said he was another witness to what you did that night. But I take it he isn't coming.”

Griffin looked away. “That much is obvious.”

“You know,” Seire went on,”unless your weapon arrives, I'm sure nearly everyone in the hearing will be crying for your blood. Not that you probably don't deserve it, but I thought you would be a little more distressed at the notion.”

“It's not that big of a problem, having everyone against me,” Griffin replied, shrugging. “I don't even know if my own weapon partner would support me. But I do know that I'm prepared to stand against everyone.” His tone grew a little more bitter. “That's how it's always been.”

Seire turned his eyes towards him. “That tone...it reminds me of someone I knew.” Then he shook his head. “Why am I even talking to you?” he asked, more to himself than to Griffin, before lifting his chin and leaving, closing the door behind him as he went.

That left Griffin alone with his thoughts. He leaned forward, and placed his hands on his lap, interlocking his fingers.

Everyone would be against him, that was true. If they were all that biased, there would be a chance he wouldn't even make it back alive.

Why did he have to get mixed up in this? Why did Callista choose him for her stupid plan? Why wasn't he back at the Society, where people didn't want him dead, why didn't he just run away?

Was he trying to prove something? Prove to Jekyll that he would listen to the law for once? Prove to Archer that he didn't just care about himself alone?

...Whatever it was, it didn't matter. Jekyll could find other magic users, and Archer could find another meister. He had only caused trouble from the beginning.

But Archer had been looking out for him even back then. So why wasn't he here now?

Griffin didn't want to be mad at him. But he allowed himself to be – if he wasn't mad, then he would become sad over losing a person who had been on his side even when he caused trouble.

The whole thing left him feeling rather numb.

 

* * *

 

“So you've been living as a werewolf with witches and sorcerers,” Nadeshiko said, while she led Jasper towards his own room down the hallway. “What are they like?”

“Uh, well,” Jasper began, “They're really nice.” He scratched the back of his neck. “Yeah, they've just been under a lot of pressure lately. Weird things have been happening.”

“Sounds exciting,” Nadeshiko said, turning a corner. “Never a dull moment?”

“I...guess you could say that...?” Jasper replied uneasily, following after her. “Gosh – I always think about how strange it is to hear, that I live with them. I've only been there for a month, though, so I'm not really used to them.”

“I see,” she said. “Well, some things that are commonplace to others can be very strange to us.”

He stared at her back for a little, falling silent. After a few moments, she glanced over her shoulder at him. “What?”

“N-nothing!” Jasper said. “I was just, uh...wondering. You're a Death Scythe, right?”

“Yes.”

“And you're...” He wasn't sure if he should say it outright, so he skipped ahead to the following question. “Was it hard?”

“Oh, that,” she said, seeming to get the hint. “I came from a family of all weapons, so it was no big deal to me. What was confusing was when I arrived here. So many white men! And they said female weapons and meisters were a 'novelty'. My fellows especially liked to look down on me because of my race. It was very strange, mostly because the Academy opens its doors to all. But the students? Not so much.”

“That sounds really bad, yeah,” Jasper said. “I guess not even all meisters and weapons are totally welcome.”

“You know, in my days studying here, the number of female weapons and meisters was low. But I'm noticing a more inclusive trend, and I am glad for it,” she told him. “I would love to see more of them here.”

“Yeah...” Jasper's mind went back to Rachel, for a space.

“I see you're quite the charmer, intentional or not,” Nadeshiko said. She stopped in front of a door in the lower grounds, and turned around to face him. “And we both have experience in being outcasts. But I'm not going to get attached to you.”

“I-I see,” Jasper nodded.

“Don't take it personally; I just need to have an unbiased view on you for the hearing.” She then smiled a bit. “Chin up. We're not going to torture you or anything.”

He nodded again, and with that she pulled out a key, before unlocking the door in front of them. She opened it, and Jasper looked inside, before walking into the room.

“I'll leave you here to get settled,” Nadeshiko told him. Then she closed the door behind him and, based on the sound of footsteps outside, walked away. He glanced over his shoulder at the door, before taking a deep breath.

He walked over to the bed, before sitting down on it, and then moving so that he was now lying down. He took another deep breath, and then closed his eyes.

In his mind's eye, he could picture the wolf, tied to the stake on the ground as it was before. It stared at him, and he stared back, his hands clenched into fists.

“Why have you come here?” the wolf asked. “To ask me to leave you alone for the last time?”

He continued to stare, before inhaling, and then lowering himself down so that he was now sitting on the ground in front of it, at eye level with it.

“No,” he said. “I guessed that since we're alone, we could actually talk.”

The wolf looked incredulous. “You? Want to talk to me?”

“Y-yeah–” Jasper caught himself, before continuing, “–and I'm not going to try to resist you either. Some time ago I thought that if I understood you, I could control my transformations.” His look turned firm. “So I'll try to understand.”

The wolf eyed him a little suspiciously, before sitting down as well.

“I mean...you're very difficult to talk to,” he went on, trying to piece together his thoughts. “You emphasize the negative feelings I have about myself, even though I wanted to be brave this whole time. It just made me feel kind of worthless, that I wasn't worth the trouble everyone was going through for me just because I'm a werewolf who can't control his powers.”

“Yes, but this isn't anything we haven't covered before,” the wolf told him.

“I guess it isn't,” Jasper said. “But – but I wanted to say that I realized something. No one...none of my friends really think I'm worthless because I'm a werewolf who can't control his powers. The one who was putting a lot of pressure on me to control my powers was me.” He then shrugged, wilting a tiny bit more. “Well, and the DWMA too, but I guess they just act that way towards anyone who isn't human.”

“I'm...guessing that's not all you have to say,” the wolf said.

Jasper nodded, and continued, “All this time I was thinking that one day I would hurt people because of my powers. I thought I could protect people by pushing it all down. But I've been hurting myself by doing that. I have to take a step forward to try and help myself, too. After all, I've been using the powers I can control to help other people. I can do the same with this.”

“But...don't you fear what's up ahead? Isn't that a long and difficult road?”

“I guess it is. But I think it'll be alright. You keep telling me things would be difficult to handle. But I handled them anyway.” He then inhaled, and exhaled once more. “So you're just a part of me that I didn't know how to deal with before. However...I think I do now. Because you were right.”

The wolf blinked. “I was right?”

“About one thing,” Jasper clarified. “I've got a lot of potential. And I'll never find out what it is if we stay this way, taunting and doubting and all that.”

He stood up, and began to walk forward as he went on, “I think I understand what Mr. Luckett had told me back then. I can't force you to my will. I can only tame you and hope we see eye to eye.” He then chuckled softly. “I'm surprised I remember that. But, that doesn't matter. What I'm saying is, you're a part of me now. And I have to start helping myself. So...”

He extended his hands, and reached around to the knot that kept the wolf bound.

“I can't keep you tied up like this,” he said. “I only trust you not to run loose.”

The knot came undone, and the rope dropped to the ground. Jasper straightened up as the wolf stood up as well, and then sniffed around, before circling Jasper's feet. Then it looked up at him.

“You trust me?” it asked.

“I'll try to,” Jasper said.

The wolf stared at him once more, before pouncing on him and knocking him to the ground. A second before he hit the ground, Jasper's heart began to race, and he felt a little afraid, the wolf's breath felt hot on his face and certainly it would bite at any moment and–

–the wolf licked his face, wagging its tail.

“Thank you,” the wolf said happily. “You don't know how long I was suffering there.”

“We were both suffering,” Jasper said, sitting up. The wolf stepped off of him and moved to the side, sitting and looking at him, more like a dog than a monster. “But, no more of that. I'll try to be braver and help us, from now on.”

The vision faded out to black, and Jasper opened his eyes.

When he did, he looked down at his hands. They were hairy and clawed, and he realized he had transformed. Slowly, he began to concentrate...

It was a slow, gradual process, almost clouded by the steam coming out of him. But Jasper could feel himself changing from werewolf to human form.

And he couldn't help but smile a bit.

He had done it.

 

* * *

 

“So you two welcomed the werewolf and the sorcerer into the Academy?”

“Yes we did, Lord Death,” Nadeshiko said, bowing a little.

In front of his mirror in the Death Room, Lord Death made a hum of approval. “That's good to know. Hopefully nothing happens that should disrupt the hearings and we'll be good to go!”

Seire huffed. “I don't see why you have to make us do this, though. I mean, the werewolf I can tolerate. But the sorcerer had very obviously tried to kill those students. Who cares if it's madness?”

“Wait until the hearing to let out your grievances,” Nadeshiko told him. “Or better yet, don't let out your grievances at all. You're a Death Scythe, and you have authority, so therefore you should be impartial. Who knows, something at the hearing might change the perspective.” Then she tilted her head. “Or are you just hanging on to what happened that night with Jekyll, Lanyon, and Altera?”

Seire bristled. “What makes you think you can say anything about that?” he asked angrily.

Lord Death put up his hands. “Nadeshiko, you know that's a sore spot for Concord, don't be rude about it,” he told her. Then he looked at Seire. “But she's right, though. You have to be...a little more impartial.”

“But you're the one who tells us that witches and sorcerers are dangerous and evil,” Seire said.

“I know, and they do cause trouble a lot,” he conceded. “But there's a reason not all of them are on my List. And besides, one of my closest friends was a sorcerer.”

Seire and Nadeshiko both stared at him, their eyes wide as saucers.

“...What?”

Before anyone could say anything else, however, an officer came running into the Death Room. “Lord Death!” he said.

“Hm? What is it?” Lord Death asked.

“It's the stationary portal to London,” the officer said. “Someone figured out its location and tried to get in without an identification card.”

“Really?” Lord Death asked, a bit bemused. “Then let's go see who it is."

 


	6. It Would Seem We Are Trapped

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frankenstein tries to stall for time, Archer meets someone he didn't expect to see, and Hyde makes a decision.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did finish this chapter quickly, I swear! It's just that editing it took way longer than it should have...the time mostly composed of me trying to get off my ass and just edit a tiny bit of it.
> 
> Anyway, since I didn't edit this quickly, I worked on the seventh chapter while I was at it. Expect that soon-ish as well!

It was silent in Moreau's hideout, save for the sound of running water and a pen scratching against paper. Frankenstein guessed that she was being held somewhere near the river, but she had no way of confirming that for sure. All the windows were boarded up, and the front door was padlocked.

The sound of the pen, on the other hand, was coming from Moreau, who was talking notes on the brightly glowing soul in front of him. It was attached to an apparatus Frankenstein was sure she had seen in the raven sorcerer's laboratory. She wondered if Moreau had stolen that from the Lodgers, too.

“The subject is emanating great energy; shows signs of transformative properties,” Moreau mumbled to himself. “A very old soul, containing phoenix magic.” He then stopped writing, and looked over the results he had written on the paper. Then he grinned.

“By all definitions, this sorcerer's soul is ready to be used for my weaponized golem,” he said, placing the paper down on the table in front of the apparatus. Then he turned towards her. “Don't you think so, Frankenstein?”

“I can only imagine your glee,” Frankenstein said dryly. Then she tried to move her hands, even though they were tied behind her back. “Tell me, though, why you brought me here if you were only going to run tests on the soul.”

“I only wanted you to see what progress I'm making with the golem I want to make,” Moreau told her. “And besides, I'll need your help in constructing this golem soon. You are, after all, the only one who's ever managed to make a weapon out of a golem.”

“Apparently that's the only thing people know about me,” Frankenstein said. Her gaze never wavered from his, and she lifted her chin. “You want a weapon golem? Very well. I will tell you what you need to do.”

Moreau turned back towards the machine the soul was attached to. “I knew we would end up seeing eye to eye eventually.”

He carefully and quickly removed the soul from the machine – Frankenstein could hear him hissing a little. Then he placed it back inside the glass bottle it had been stored inside before. He winced a little, and removed his gloves. His hands were red with burn marks. But this did not make him pause as he looked at her. “Now, be a good golem enchanter and share your expertise with me.”

Frankenstein nodded, and then sat down on a nearby crate. “To get started, you need a specific type of clay. It has to be taken from a riverbank.”

Moreau paused for a moment. “Seriously?”

She shrugged. “I do not make the rules of what works and what doesn't. You need clay from a riverbank. I learned that the hard way, so be grateful you won't have to.”

He sighed. “Fine,” he said. “But you had better not be lying to me.”

“I would not, of course,” she said. “I understand the situation I am in.”

That seemed to be enough to appease Moreau, if not completely convince him. He took up a few nearby buckets, and went to the doorway to the room they were in. Then that left Frankenstein alone with the soul in the glass bottle.

Of course, she had lied. Any clay would do for a weapon golem – the Creature had been made from an amalgam of them, in fact. She just hoped that the little errand she had sent Moreau on would buy her some time to figure out what she could do in this situation to escape.

Frankenstein looked at the soul in the glass bottle. She didn't have the ability of Soul Perception, so she couldn't make out anything of the soul beyond knowing that it was a glowing orb full of energy. But she guessed that seeing it here meant that even though the body was gone, the soul was still alive, in a sense.

“We are both trapped here, it would seem,” she said to the soul. “We can only hope something will happen that may get us out of here.” She then chuckled to herself. “I cannot believe I am talking to a disembodied soul. I must be going mad.”

The soul's light flickered, just a little.

 

* * *

 

Well, Archer should have been glad that he made it as far as the lower deck of the ship rumored to be the portal to the DWMA. Sneaking onboard alongside a few DWMA students was part of his plan, and it had gone well up to that point. What he didn't expect was for the officers onboard to require an identification card – and that was when he had made a run for it.

Searching for the portal while the officers above deck were looking for him would be a waste of time, so he hid in the nearest room he could find. Unfortunately for him, that dark room happened to be filled with more officers, and that was how he got caught.

Now he was sitting in that same room, his hands bound with handcuffs behind a chair. Someone else had run to get the authorities, and now Archer couldn't feel anything except frustration. And perhaps annoyance. Well, he had managed to stay out of the police's way when he was still living with his family, and even when he joined the underground ring. And _this_ was how he got caught once and for all? For trying to sneak into the DWMA? That sounded a lot less heavy than robbery.

“He's right there, sir,” he heard one of the officers say, and he looked up. Someone else had entered the room, and Archer recognized him. Sort of. It was the Death Scythe that had come to visit the Society, right?

He looked down at Archer, and walked over to him. “You're familiar,” he said. “Are you from the Society for Witches and Sorcerers, by any chance?”

“You could say that,” Archer told him. “Listen, I'm just here to see a friend of mine. That isn't that big a crime, is it?”

“It is, if you're entering restricted property.”

“From the Society for Witches and Sorcerers?” a strange, high-pitched voice from the other door to the room asked. Both Archer and the Death Scythe looked up. “Do you think that means he's here to see those two?”

“It doesn't mean he can just sneak in here, though,” the Death Scythe said.

A hum came from the strange voice. “Let me see him.”

The Death Scythe sighed. “Alright.”

He went behind Archer's chair, and then pushed the chair towards the open door, with less effort than Archer expected him to have. Archer looked over his shoulder at him. “Do I even weigh anything to you?” he asked.

“I don't have time for your banter,” he told him, before stopping In front of the door, and turning the chair to face the doorway.

When Archer looked through the doorway, he didn't know what he was expecting to see – but a large, black, spiky being with a strange but familiar white mask and big blocky white hands wasn't anything his mind could have come up with.

He must have jumped, because the being took one look at him, and put a hand to his mask. “Why, is this your first time seeing Death in the flesh?” he asked, in that same high-pitched voice.

Archer nervously laughed – he didn't know what else to do. “D-Death?” he asked. “As-as in, Lord Death, head of the Academy, actual physical god?”

The being in front of him leaned forward, just a bit. “That would be me!” he said, waving a hand. “Good to see you!”

“I – uh...” Archer's eyes darted towards the Death Scythe. “This is the guy you work for?”

“What, were you expecting him to look different?” the Death Scythe asked.

“I mean – the name of Death evokes some sort of scary feeling, and then you look at him, and it's like–” Archer paused, and then looked at Lord Death. “No offense.”

“None taken,” he said. “I get that a lot.”

“Right.” He wasn't sure if he should touch on the appearance a little more, so he decided to leave it alone. “Uh...Lord Death. My name is Christopher Archer. I'm here to see my friend, Jack Griffin.”

“Jack Griffin, the sorcerer?” Lord Death asked. “Why would you go to these lengths to see him?”

“He's got a hearing soon, right?” Archer replied. “I've got to make up for something I did – I'll even testify at his hearing if you need it. He's my meister, and–”

“Hold on,” Lord Death stood straighter. “You said he's your meister?”

“Yeah.”

He carefully watched Lord Death for any reactions, but his mask gave nothing away. Then he looked at the Death Scythe. “Let him go.”

“What?”

“Let him go. And let him see his meister, too.”

“But Lord Death–!” The Death Scythe cut himself off under Death's stare, and then sighed. “Give me the key.”

 

* * *

 

Within Jekyll's house, Jekyll was alone, save for the various staff that lived with him. But, he supposed that it was alright. He needed to be alone right now, after dealing with the state of affairs in the Society and overthinking things. Right now, in the privacy of his house, he could allow himself a glass or two of wine.

“ _Right, like that's going to do any wonders.”_

“You and I both know that we would continue to drink, whether it helped or not,” Jekyll told Hyde, before finishing off his second glass of wine. He put the glass down, and then looked at the calendar next to his bed. The day of the Tournament was tomorrow.

“ _Goodness, time flies that fast,”_ Hyde said, while Jekyll looked away. _“What're you going to do about Lanyon, and your resonance?”_

“I don't know,” Jekyll admitted. “I could talk to him, but...”

“ _But what? You're afraid that you'll make things worse?”_ Hyde appeared in the looking glass beside Jekyll's closet. _“Jekyll, things_ are _worse. I don't think talking to him is gonna cause a catastrophe.”_

Jekyll nodded, and then steepled his fingers. “...What if that doesn't fix everything, though?” he asked. “We've spent this long away from each other. We haven't trained together well enough for this. It's bad enough that Callista and Robert's father have pulled their funding – the Tournament could fix that, but...” His eyebrows creased. “I can't bear the thought of not being able to fix everything – if something goes wrong between Robert and I at the wrong time...”

“ _So what? You're going to sit here, feeling sorry for yourself?”_ Hyde asked, sounding cross. _“The least you could do is get up off your ass and try. Weren't you the one who said you and Lanyon needed each other?”_

Jekyll remained silent for a space. Hyde could sense the various thoughts running through their shared mind, how he was thinking of ways it could go wrong, about Lanyon taking the blade for them...

“Someone's out to get our Society,” Jekyll finally said.

“ _What?”_

“Things have been happening, disastrous things – and is it any coincidence that our Society is getting involved?” Jekyll asked. “The person who killed Luckett and framed you for it – another person assisting Moreau in fighting us when Frankenstein arrived here – it must be the same person.” He then ran his hands through his hair. “They might even try to sabotage us at the Tournament.”

“ _Well then, that's a perfect excuse to go talk to Lanyon!”_ Hyde said. _“You tell him that, get back together, and then you kick that peron's ass!”_

Jekyll stood up, and walked over to his closet to get his jacket, but had only gone as far as opening the doors when he stopped.

“...No, Robert will probably think I'm being hysterical,” he said. “And paranoid. Hell, he'll probably think I'm being stupid for having avoided him this long.”

“ _What're you saying all of a sudden?”_ Hyde asked, rising out of the mirror and flying in front of his face. _“It's my job to torment you, don't do it for me!”_

Jekyll let out a choked laugh. “But you're trying to take care of me now,” he said. He then laughed a little more. “I _am_ going mad if you're trying to console me. I must really be quite crazy – hysterical – I'm being stupid, and irrational, and I've always, always–”

 _“Are you hearing yourself right now?”_ Hyde asked. _“You're being a little unreasonable."_

“Yes, right, because I've always been unreasonable, and I've always ruined things,” Jekyll said.

_“What are you talking about?”_

“You remember what Lanyon said to me that day? When this all began?”

_“Oh, sure, you can't let go of that–”_

“You're damn right I can't let go of that!” Jekyll exclaimed. “Even without intending to, I made Lanyon feel like he was weak! Weapons aren't supposed to do that to their meisters, weapons aren't supposed to do anything I've done!”

_“Then what are weapons supposed to do, Jekyll?!”_

“I don't know!” Jekyll had thrown his hands up in the air as he said that, and took a moment to breathe, before lowering them. “I don't know what a good weapon does. Hell, I don't know what a good person does.” He put a hand over his mouth. “Maybe that's what happened with the formula...I don't know what a good person is like, so how can I be one?”

_“Jekyll...”_

“I never wanted to hurt anyone, or make anyone get hurt...every time I talk to Lanyon, I make it worse, maybe I'm selfish for saying Lanyon needs me...”

Suddenly he lurched, and a familiar green substance poured out of his mouth. He and Hyde stared down at it, before pain overtook him once again, and he fell to the ground.

When the pain subsided, and he came back up for air, it was no longer Jekyll, but Hyde who was in control of the body. He looked down at his hands, and then sighed in exasperation.

“I guess I had to come out,” he told himself, getting to his feet. “You alright, Jekyll? Your anxiety really got a hold of you there.”

There was no response. Hyde felt a little concerned, but then he looked at himself in the mirror, and his look turned firm.

If Jekyll was going to be like that, then now was the time to act.

But he couldn't do this act alone.

So he had to write a note.


	7. I Want Nothing More Than You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two meisters say things that their weapons need to hear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I mentioned that I'm going to start making resolutions for the subplots, right? Well, this chapter is part of that! I can only hope that this chapter will please yall as much as it pleased me.

Rachel would have supposed that this was going to be a night like any other, were it not for the note that appeared in the kitchen all of a sudden. _Come to Jekyll's office after the sun goes down,_ was all that it said. Rachel didn't know for certain who it was from, but she had a feeling.

So with that feeling, she went to Jekyll's office the moment that the sun was down. She walked over to the door, and found that it was unlocked. She peeked inside – and standing there was who else but Hyde, who turned to face her as she opened the door. They looked at each other, and Hyde seemed relieved. At least, as relieved as he would allow himself to look.

“There you are, Rachel,” he said. “Close the door, would you?”

She nodded, and then closed the door behind her, while he walked up to her. She turned back to him, and was surprised to see him face to face with her. He seemed a little unsure as to where to begin – which was unexpected to her – but he spoke up eventually.

“Look, Rachel,” he began. “I need your help. I'm going to do something tonight which I thought I would never do. As such, there's a job only you can do.”

“A job only I can do?” Rachel repeated.

“Yeah,” Hyde told her. “Anything wrong with that?”

“No, of course not,” she said, putting on a smile. “I'm happy to serve you as your weapon.”

Hyde looked taken aback. “Serve me?”

“That's what I do, isn't it?” Rachel asked. “You ask me to do something for you, I do it as your weapon, and you disappear into the night, without so much as a thank you. But-but that's alright.” Her smile turned sadder. “It's not like I deserve any thanks for just doing my job.”

Something began to ache in her chest, and she looked down, to hide her face from him. She got the feeling that she said something she shouldn't have, but it was too late to take it back now. His feet seemed to awkwardly shuffle, and he spoke.

“Rachel,” he said – and in that single word there was something in his voice she had never heard before. “Did...did I make you feel that way?”

A sob escaped her lips. “I'm sorry.”

“No, don't apologize. Look at me.”

She sniffled, and he put his hands on her shoulders. It was then that she looked up at him, and her eyes met his. That same thing she had heard in his voice, she could see in his eyes – care, concern.

“Hey,” he said. “I'm not only concerned about the job you do, okay? You're my weapon. And you're-you're my...my friend.”

She sniffled again. “I'm your friend?”

“Yeah, and I never knew you felt that way,” Hyde said.

Rachel shook her head. “Well, I didn't want you to know. You're just...the spirit of London at night, always wrapped up in your own business...but that's okay.”

“No, it's not!” Hyde nearly exclaimed. His hold on her shoulders tightened. “Rachel, I...I haven't been paying attention to you, have I?”

“I don't deserve to be paid attention to,” Rachel said, choking up in between her words. She began to feel tears fall from her eyes, and she looked down again, closing her eyes.

She didn't notice that Hyde's hands had moved from her shoulders, until she felt them slowly (maybe awkwardly) wipe the tears from her cheeks. She opened her eyes, and looked up at him again.

“Listen, Rachel,” he said, in a far gentler tone than usual. “I had this realization. Sure, I might be wrapped up in my own business as the spirit of London at night, but there's something I can't do alone now. As much as I hate to admit it, people need Jekyll, Jekyll needs people, and I...need you. And you need me, right?”

She nodded, but didn't say anything, instead continuing to cry. Hyde went on, “I've always thought I could get by alone. Thought that's all I needed. But you changed that.”

“...I did?”

“You had faith in me when the Lodgers thought I killed Luckett, you stood by me when that mess a few days ago happened; hell, you didn't think my plan to make you a Death Scythe was crazy. You were my weapon when we hunted down all those kishin eggs.”

“And drove all those pub owners nuts,” Rachel added.

Hyde laughed a bit. “Yeah!” he said. “You're the only one who can handle this night spirit. I think you should give yourself a little more credit.” He then put his hands down. “I think...you're really great. And you're not just a weapon to me.”

“I'm your friend,” Rachel said. She wiped her nose, and then breathed deeply. “You really mean all that?”

“Well, I just spat out a bunch of words, what do you think it means?” he told her. “Most wouldn't expect such words of someone as evil as I.”

She smiled softly at him. “I think that you're not evil. And you'll never be alone as long as I'm around. I'll make sure of it.”

“Yeah, I can count on you for that.” Hyde extended a hand, perhaps for her to shake. “So–”

She immediately cut him off by wrapping her arms around him, and she let out a sigh of happiness.

“You helped me with my weapon powers, and you pulled me out of a dark place,” she said. “There's no way I'd leave you.” She squeezed him tighter. “Thank you, Edward.”

She could feel Hyde's breath hitch. But that was only for a moment before he slowly wrapped his own arms around her as well, holding her just as tight.

Was that a happy sigh from his lips, too?

They held each other for a while, before releasing each other. Hyde seemed a little embarrassed, but he quickly shrugged it off. She smiled a little, and then straightened up. “So, what does this night spirit want me to do?”

“Well, it's something Jekyll's been thinking about doing, but can't get around to it as it stands,” he said. “I can't do it without you here. I know you're the only one who can keep me on the right track, so I don't end up driving him further away.”

“On the right–?”

The doorknob clicked, and the two of them looked up to see who was coming in.

And she understood what Hyde meant, when she saw Lanyon standing there.

 

* * *

 

Lanyon walked into the office, his expression turning into one of confusion. “I...got a note from Jekyll asking me to come here,” he said. “Where is he?”

“You seem to forget that he's right here,” Hyde told him, gesturing to himself. “I wrote that note and put Jekyll's name because you might not have come otherwise.”

“It was his handwriting–”

“We share the same handwriting.”

“Right.” Lanyon then looked a little uneasy. “Not here to argue with me, are you?”

“Not unless you want to.”

“Edward.” Rachel reached for his hand, and firmly grasped it. Hyde looked down at her hand, and squeezed it back, taking a deep breath. Then he looked at Lanyon.

“...S-sorry,” he mustered. “I didn't call you to fight. I just want to talk, since Jekyll's kind of put himself out of commission.”

“Out of commission?” Lanyon asked.

“He had a nervous breakdown,” he replied bluntly. “There was no getting out of it, so I took over instead.”

“I see,” Lanyon said. “Should we sit down?”

“Not here,” Hyde said, going towards the door and pulling Rachel with him. “Let's go somewhere more appropriate.”

He saw Lanyon swallow, and then nod. With that, Hyde opened the door. So far, so food. He led Rachel and Lanyon outside, into the hall, and began talking once more as they walked.

“You see, Jekyll had something to say to you, but he couldn't bring himself to,” Hyde began. “Thought things wouldn't go well.”

“Does it...have to do with the formula? The one that...created you?”

Hyde glanced at him, before shrugging. “Not really, but I suppose I could tell you more about that.”

“Jekyll told me it was an experiment in good and evil,” Lanyon told him. “And you already told me that I was the reason you were created.”

“That's true, in a sense.”

“Oh.”

“Really?” Rachel asked. “You're not just saying that to get a rise out of Dr. Lanyon, are you?”

“Only partly,” Hyde admitted. He saw Rachel's unimpressed face, however, and then decided it was better to go another route. “But Jekyll really was feeling the stress of being your weapon, and also being a gentleman as a weapon who dropped out of the Academy. He couldn't stand the stress of being imperfect. So that started his research into splitting the soul.”

“I see,” was all that Lanyon could say.

Hyde finally led them into a certain room, and flicked the light switch on the side once all three of them were inside. The lights came on, and Rachel and Lanyon saw the room that Hyde directed them to – the training room. He then closed the door, and turned towards them.

“But I have to be honest with you; his research continued because he thought this would help the magic users, somehow,” he said, a tad flippantly. “To split the good from the evil, that could really be a breakthrough. Perhaps magic users would no longer be affected by the Sway of Magic. Motivated by all these factors, he made the formula that created me.”

“So is that what you are?” Lanyon asked. “You're Henry's evil?”

Hyde looked at Rachel, for a moment. Then he shook his head. “Sure, I might be everything Jekyll hates about himself, but there's more to the story than that. We're different, but...we're the same, too. It's a little complicated. Neither of us can explain it.”

“So...what was that about, that day?” Rachel asked. “I think I heard you mention that you couldn't...”

“Transform into a weapon?”

Both Rachel and Lanyon were silent, before Rachel slowly nodded.

Hyde scoffed. “Come on, don't think that's a sore spot for me!” He said. It was a lie, but damn if he wasn't going to die with it. “In exchange for transformation abilities, I can do everything a meister can! Well, sort of. My sixth sense sucks. But at least I can wield a weapon.”

He laughed a bit, but neither of them looked convinced. Hyde then shook it off. At least Rachel didn't mention that Jekyll could wield her too. “But, yes, I can't transform into a weapon. And that, admittedly, puts us in a bind.”

“How does it put us in a bind?” Lanyon asked.

“If I could transform into a weapon, then I could just become your weapon for the Tournament, since Jekyll isn't doing well right now. That's tomorrow, isn't it?”

Lanyon wilted. “Don't remind me; my father gave me a hard time about it earlier."

“Who cares about that old ratbag?” Hyde asked, crossing his arms. “The point is, we have to save this fucking Society no matter what. And I'd love to protect it as much as Jekyll does – that'll surprise lots of people – but...I can't do it as Hyde right now. You and Jekyll were the ones who made that promise to compete, after all.”

Lanyon's expression turned firm. “What do you want us to do?”

“I've already explained Rachel's job to her,” Hyde told him. “But you have to talk to Jekyll. Earnestly, or whatever, so he'll come out.”

“How can I do that?”

Hyde took Rachel's hand, and the two of them sat down on the floor. Then he looked up at Lanyon – Death, he couldn't believe he was doing this – and extended his hand towards him.

“To meet Jekyll in this state, you're going to have to resonate with me.”

Lanyon stared down at the hand, swallowing once more. But he had no more hesitation after that, and he took Hyde's hand, before sitting down as well.

“Let's save this fucking Society, then,” he said, and Hyde couldn't help but grin.

 

* * *

 

It had taken some effort, given that Lanyon hadn't attempted Chain Resonance (that is, resonance with multiple people) in a long time, much less with two souls he could barely resonate with. Admittedly, he had worried they would take all night. But after many tries, they had gotten the hang of it – at least well enough for the connection to be stable. He took a deep breath, trying to withstand the pressure on his soul wavelength, and closed his eyes.

When he opened them, he found himself falling down a hole. He looked around, and saw Rachel and Hyde within as well, falling with him. Then they weren't falling, so much as gently floating down into a space that looked like a small library. They all landed on their feet (Rachel, a little shakily), before looking around.

“What is this place?” Lanyon asked.

“This would be Jekyll's mind,” Hyde said. “Or rather, mine and Jekyll's shared mind. If he's hiding anywhere in my head, he'd be here.”

“So we just have to look for him?”

“I'm sure he's not far.” A pause. “Not too far.”

Lanyon smoothed over his clothes, and then looked at Rachel. “Are you coming along too?” he asked.

She shrugged. “Hyde needs me as much as Jekyll needs you. But don't worry, I'll try not to get in your way.”

He nodded. “I don't think you will.”

The two of them walked after Hyde, while he looked around the mindscape for Jekyll. They also looked around themselves as he led them down upside down hallways filled with doors, endless spiral stairs, and shelves stuffed to their limit with all sorts of papers, books, and scrolls.

They walked down a long hallway, before entering a room that seemed to encompass three floors with its high shelves and skull-shaped lamps. Lanyon looked around – the architecture was familiar.

“Why does this place look like the DWMA library?” Lanyon asked himself, before Hyde held up a hand to stop him. He bumped into him, but he was only surprised for a second before he saw why Hyde had stopped him.

It was Jekyll, sitting on a chair, reading a thick book. His expression, if Lanyon had to describe it, was quite pensive, and if he sensed them, he didn't look up to show them for sure.

“...Henry,” Hyde said. Jekyll still didn't look up, but he did close the book and place it on a nearby table.

“How are you here, Hyde?” Jekyll asked. “I didn't know the body could sleep while you're in control.”

“I'm not asleep, I'm in resonance,” Hyde clarified. “Look, Henry. I brought someone you need to see.”

With that, he lowered his arm from in front of Lanyon, allowing him to take a few steps forward. At the sound of his footsteps, Jekyll looked up, and his eyes widened.

“Henry, can we talk?” he asked.

Jekyll looked away, but nodded. A small, sad smile appeared on his face. “You know, I was supposed to come to you, not the other way around.”

“Well, Hyde called me over with a note and invited me in here, so I think that counts for something,” Lanyon said.

Jekyll's eyes went to Hyde, who was standing beside Rachel. “Hyde sure is something, isn't he?”

“He's you,” Lanyon said, trying to smile. “And he said you had something to tell me.”

Jekyll finally looked at him. “You know, the only reason I didn't come to you like this...it's because I believed you wouldn't want to hear what I had to say.” He sighed. “I believe a lot of silly things, Robert. My anxiety, the Society, out partnership...”

“What makes you think those things are silly?” Lanyon said. “I mean, we haven't exactly been the best of conversation partners recently. But your belief about the Society isn't wrong, at least.” He held Jekyll's shoulders, leaning down to look him in the eye. “You saved a lot of good souls from people who wanted them dead.”

“But Luckett–”

“Luckett wasn't your fault. And not just in the sense that neither you not Hyde killed him, but also that you couldn't have prevented it. You didn't know.”

Jekyll looked down. “I must have done _something_ wrong. Because someone's...someone's out to get our Society.”

Lanyon swallowed. “You don't mean...?”

“Think about it. Everything that's been happening this past month, Moreau, Luckett, the magic parasite Griffin mentioned–”

“Magic parasite?”

“It's a long story – the point is, I should have seen sooner that someone might be out to get us. I don't know who, but I just know this trouble must be caused by someone.” Jekyll then took a deep breath. “That was what I wanted to tell you.”

“And you thought I wouldn't want to hear about that?” Lanyon asked. He felt a little tired from leaning, so he grabbed another nearby chair and sat down on it. “Henry, I care about this Society too. And I care about you. I would hear you out, no matter what.”

“You would, wouldn't you?” Jekyll swallowed, before continuing, “Just another sign of how misguided my thoughts and beliefs are.”

“Look, you can change your beliefs if – _if_ they're wrong,” Lanyon said. “Like I used to believe that you were the hero, and I was just your meister. But I realized that you just wanted me to be your partner, and you were trying to be mine as you saw fit."

“You told me that I was making you feel useless,” Jekyll said. “I didn't mean for you to feel that way. I just thought...”

“I get it,” Lanyon said, as tenderly as he could. “I do. And I did think that before. But you remember what I told Hyde, after what happened with the golem?”

“You only said that you have to stand by me.”

“Yes.” Lanyon leaned forward again, but still looked Jekyll in the eye. “I have to stand by you. I _want_ to stand by you, be your partner – it was what I needed all along. And I believe we can be good – no, better partners than before.”

“...Is there a 'but'?” Jekyll asked.

Lanyon reached forward, and grabbed Jekyll's hands. “I just don't want you to think yourself a tool that only has to grow stronger to protect me.”

“Because you don't want me to grow stronger?”

“Because you're not a tool.”

Seeing Jekyll's surprised face as he said that, Lanyon came closer to the edge of his seat, and held his hands tighter. “You're not a tool, Henry. You've never been. You're not a shield, you're not just a weapon to me.”

“Then...what do you really think of me?” Jekyll asked.

Lanyon paused, to get out of his chair and come as close to Jekyll as he could, kneeling down in front of him.

“...You're Henry Jekyll,” he replied. “You are my light and my life. I want nothing more than you.”

There was a pause, as Jekyll processed what he said, before he moved to intertwine his fingers with Lanyon's.

And, if Lanyon had to describe the look on Jekyll's face as he did, he would have said that he was beaming brighter than the sun, the light returning to his eyes.

“Robert,” Jekyll said, before a few tears sprang forth. “Oh, Robert.”

If Lanyon had looked at Hyde and Rachel, he would have seen them staring, the two of them more relieved and elated than expected.

But Lanyon wasn't looking at them. He was looking at Jekyll, _his_ Jekyll, his wonderful partner.

 

* * *

 

The moon shone through the windows of the training room, which was still illuminated by the electric lights within. Rachel and Lanyon opened their eyes, and looked around.

“It's as if no time's passed at all,” Lanyon noted, releasing Hyde's and Rachel's hands. He straightened up, while Rachel looked at Hyde. His eyes were still closed, as if he was at rest.

“Edward?” Rachel asked.

Slowly, he opened his eyes, but didn't look at either of them. He sucked in a breath.

And then he began to glow.

Lanyon and Rachel stared at him in surprise, while Hyde closed his eyes again, but only for a second before his form began to change into a familiar shape. Then this shape floated in the air, and slowly descended.

It was a sword – Jekyll's weapon form.

Before it could fully sink to the ground, both Lanyon and Rachel reached out and grabbed its handle. There was no resonance rejection, no acid burns, no heaviness.

“Henry?”

“Edward?”

“Yes?” replied Jekyll and Hyde's voices, simultaneously.

Both Lanyon and Rachel jumped, but the sword made no move to transform back. Instead, Jekyll let out a thoughtful hum.

“Hyde can transform into a weapon now!” he said. “I wonder what could have triggered it.”

Rachel looked past the sword at Lanyon, and she had a feeling she knew why, but chose not to bring it up. Instead, they both lowered the sword a bit.

“Well, aside from the weapon transformation itself, this feels really strange,” Hyde noted. “It seems our weapon form's become some sort of state where neither one of us is fully in control of the body. Hence, this.”

Lanyon's brows creased. “So you weren't always able to do this? The in-between state?”

“Nope,” Hyde said.

“But it's something we have to look into later,” Jekyll interjected. “Right now, we have to prepare for the Tournament.”

“ _You_ have to prepare for the Tournament,” Lanyon said. “I've already been training on my own.” A corner of his mouth turned upwards. “That's how I ended up having a conversation with my father about the Tournament today.”

“...What.”

“I didn't think to ask you to come with me; I was afraid you'd be bitter about the last time we were at the Battle Club!”

“Still, you could have told me–”

“Alright, alright,” Lanyon said, and Rachel let go of the sword as he pulled it closer to him. “I haven't resonated with you in a while, anyway. Let's try it again.”

Seeing them talk with each other, Rachel smiled a bit. She was glad to have helped, even if only a little.

And now another challenge awaited them. But she was confident they would be able to make it through.

She didn't know for certain, but she had a feeling.

 


End file.
